Men in Blue
by Balin Lord of Moria
Summary: A creative retelling of the story of *Blue Force.* Excitement, intrigue, and romance are all here. Rated T for mild violence, some obscenities, and a few sexy romantic scenes.
1. Introduction

**A/N:** For those of you who don't know, _Blue Force_ was a police simulator computer game designed by Jim Walls, the same man who designed the first three _Police Quest_ games, which were also police simulators. The main difference is that _Blue Force_ was made and distributed by Tsunami Media instead of Sierra On-Line. I don't own any of these characters or the game; I'm just trying to retell the story of _Blue Force_ with a few creative liberties thrown in.

There are several cop themes and songs that I think can go well with this story. If you have any of them on a device, try listening to one or more of them while reading this fanfiction:

Theme from _Miami Vice  
_Theme from _Starsky & Hutch  
_Theme from _Hawaii Five-O_ (classic)  
Theme from _Jake & McCabe  
_Theme from _CHiPs  
_Theme from _L.A. Confidential  
_Theme from _Maniac Cop  
_Theme from _Magnum P.I.  
_It's Probably Me (from _Lethal Weapon 3_)  
Summer in the City (from _Die Hard_)

_Blue Force_ had a sort of '80s/'90s cop movie feel to it, and that's why I recommend these themes and songs to anyone who reads this story. It can make _Blue Force_ feel like a living game as well as _Police Quest's_ spiritual successor.

* * *

**Introduction**

* * *

**May 15, 1984**

It seemed to be an ordinary day in Tony's Lounge at Jackson Beach. The bartender was busy, people were drinking at it, and a few people were playing games like Tapper, pool, and shuffleboard. At one table sat a couple of men. One was dressed in a dark suit, while the other wore a casual white sweatshirt and dark pants. The casually dressed man had long, brown hair and a neatly trimmed beard.

The suited man opened his briefcase and put a floppy disk on the table, pushing it toward the bearded man. The bearded man took the disk. Then the suited man closed and picked up his briefcase, got up and walked over to the bar. The bearded man remained alone at the table for a minute or so.

Suddenly, two men, one white and one black, stepped into the bar and walked up to his table. To his surprise and alarm, the men both produced police badges and identified themselves as Detectives John Ryan and Lyle Jamison, and they started to question him about something. Wanting no part of this, or perhaps being complicit in some sort of crime, he splashed his beer in their faces, distracting them for a few seconds. That was enough for him to make his escape.

The bearded man got onto his motorcycle parked outside the lounge and drove away at speed. Detectives Ryan and Jamison followed him in their unmarked, tan pick-up truck, though not before Ryan noticed that the bearded man had dropped his floppy disk on the ground, and grabbed it. They gave chase throughout the city streets for about five minutes. Then the perpetrator turned his bike into a side road too narrow for the truck to follow them in. Ryan, who was behind the wheel, turned around to attempt to cut him off by another way, but another, larger truck got in their way at the first intersection they came to. Ryan and Jamison were frustrated, and Ryan hit the steering wheel. The suspect had escaped.

* * *

**May 18, 1984**

Late that night, as John Ryan and his family were trying to get some sleep, a man who looked remarkably like the bearded suspect from three days ago came to their house and snuck in through an open window. The man walked into the computer room, where John Ryan was doing something in his underwear, and shot him once in cold blood, killing him. Then he walked into one of the next rooms, and there were two more lethal gunshots. He then escaped into the night…

Some days after this, there was a police memorial service for Officer John Ryan and his equally deceased wife, Jackie Ryan, another victim of that prowler. Most of the people, including the other police, stood solemnly and stoically. Off to the side of the police couple's caskets sat a boy, their young son, Jake Ryan, and his late-middle-aged grandmother on the father's side, Francis Ryan, or "Grandma Frannie," as she liked to be called. Both of them were crying their hearts out for their father/son and mother/daughter-in-law, respectively.

As the honorable farewells to John and Jackie ended, one of the cops folded up the American flag that lay on John's casket and offered it to Jake. The boy took it gratefully, and at that moment, he made a vow, "I swear that one day, I'll become a policeman just like dad was, and make him and mom proud by showing the scum of this town that the cops are in charge, not the crooks! I swear it, dad!" He started to cry again. Grandma Frannie stood by his side and comforted him.

The Jackson Beach Police Captain knelt in front of Jake and looked into his watery eyes. "Jake Ryan," he said, "you have just made a choice that no cop father could be more proud of, and I'm certain that you'll make just as fine a cop as he did. There is no greater challenge or honor than to be one of America's three first responders, an EMT, a firefighter, or a police officer, and when you succeed, I think the whole nation will be grateful to have had a policeman like you." He stood up and saluted the boy.

Jake responded with a sharp salute of his own. "Thank you, Captain, sir," he said, managing a small smile despite his tears.

"And one more thing, Jake," the Captain said, kneeling down in front of him again, "I would appreciate it if you and your new legal guardian, Francis Ryan, would keep and preserve your father's old police badge. It'll help remind you of what he was and how he stood up for the goodness of Jackson Beach and its citizens, and upheld the law in every situation he ever faced."

Jake looked at him. "I don't think anything could make me forget my father, sir," said Jake, "But thank you again. I'm sure Grandma won't mind if we keep it in her house, will you, Grandma Frannie?"

She smiled. "Of course not, Jake. I would have gladly asked for it myself had the Captain not brought it up."

The Captain handed Jake the badge. "Good luck, Jake. We're all rooting for you in the police force."

Jake nodded, looking grateful for everything. He would show the whole world, if he had to, that he could be a good cop just like his dad.


	2. First Day on the Job

**First Day on the Job**

* * *

**Eleven years later.**

April 23, 1995

Mr. Jake Ryan

41754 W. Ocean Drive

Dear Jake,

I am pleased to personally inform you of your acceptance at Jackson Beach Police Academy. Your instructors at JBCC have all given you their highest recommendations. I look forward to seeing you carry on the family tradition and I know that your father and mother would be extremely proud of your decision.

Official notification will follow shortly. Once again congratulations.

Sincerely,

_Robert Heitman_

Commandant, JBPA

* * *

Adult Jake Ryan pulled up to the Jackson Beach Police Department on his personal motorcycle. He passed by the lot where the police motorcycles were parked, and parked his own bike in the private parking area. He stepped off of it and walked up to the front door. He had been previously been informed that during his first days on the job, he was going to be a motor officer, driving around town on one of the police bikes he saw before him. The 'cycles certainly looked quite attractive with their powerful, shiny engines, their flashing lights, and the black-and-white paint job.

"Well, this is my first day on my new job," Jake thought to himself. "Let's hope I'm up to it." He walked through the front door and inside the station.

Inside, he walked straight to the locker room and changed into his blue police uniform. He came back outside and went straight to the briefing room to learn about his first assignment. In the briefing room, there were several other officers, including two females and one old male. The officer sitting next to Jake's seat introduced himself as Doug Harrison. He had black hair and a small mustache.

"Nice to meet you, Doug," said Jake, "I'm Jake Ryan."

Doug blinked. "Jake Ryan? The Jake Ryan? The son of Officer John Ryan, one of this police force's best policemen? Wow! I never thought I'd actually see the day! Good to meet you at last!"

Jake shook his hand in thanks. "I'm glad to meet you, too, Doug," he replied. "Say, you've been here a little longer than I have; tell me, do our superior officers make our job rough on us from the very beginning, or are new rookies cut some slack wherever possible?"

"Believe me, Jake, no police officer has it easy," said Doug, "not even rookies. But I'm sure that you won't get any of the really difficult assignments right away, unless our superiors perceive that you can give them a tremendous advantage in one of them."

"Thanks, Doug," said Jake, "That's good to hear." They broke off their conversation as the Patrol Sergeant walked into the briefing room and stood behind the podium.

"Good morning, gentlemen," he started. "Before we start the briefing, let's all welcome our newest arrival, Jake Ryan." The Sergeant and the other officers, including Doug, applauded Jake.

"Ryan's father John was a police officer in this police department, and a damn good one, I might add," he continued. Some quiet murmurs of interest arose from the assembled officers. The Sergeant silenced them with a gesture and resumed the briefing.

"Now listen up, everyone!" he started, "We have an update on the rip-off of the Strathmore military armory last week. Strathmore PD has requested that we pick up one suspect in the heist, one Forest Follet. He's wanted for questioning. So far, none of the stolen automatic weapons have been recovered. Serial numbers are on Follet's rap sheet. Be sure to check them against anything you find. Follet just might be in our area, so keep an eye out for him."

"If you have to make a stop in the Tower District, make sure you get backup. It's getting rough out there, boys and girls."

"Well, that's all there is, troops. Watch your butts and don't forget to pick up the rap sheet on Mr. Follet on the way out. Oh, by the way, Officer Ryan," here, Jake Ryan paid special attention, "Your beat assignment for the month will be Roamer One. You'll be the extra support unit anywhere in town you may be needed."

Ryan had noticed by now that the white board had the sentences, "Remember to use backup!" and "No Dirty Harry's!" It was a shame in his opinion that the world and his job couldn't be as simple as that.

He and the other officers filed out, and they headed to their motorcycles and patrol cars. Each of them picked up a copy of Follet's rap sheet from the briefing material basket on top of some bookshelves. So did Jake, and he saw that the sheet had details such as Follet's description, charges, and summary of his crimes and actions.

Before leaving, he went to say hello to the officer behind the evidence window. "Hi, my name's Jake. What's yours?"

The officer said, "Name's Barry. Nice to meet you, Ryan."

"So, how's it goin', Barry?" Jake asked him.

Barry smiled proudly. "I've got the best garage sale in town, Ryan."

Jake laughed. "Well, I wish I could hang around longer," he said, "but I've got to get started on my shift. See you around, Barry."

"I'm sure we'll see each other again, Ryan," he said with confidence. "Don't forget to clean your gun before you leave."

"I won't," promised Jake. He walked over to a gun cleaner attached to the wall under the mail slots, and cleaned his gun. He was an excited young rookie, but fortunately, he wasn't so excited that he tried to clean a loaded gun. His gun was unloaded when he cleaned it. At last, he walked to the motorcycle parking lot and found his bike. Turning the key, putting on his helmet and pressing the ignition button, he was on his way.

* * *

He patrolled the streets for a while, not coming upon much out of the ordinary. At one point, he passed by Jamison and Ryan, the old office of Officers John and Lyle. Lyle still worked there privately, by himself, and rejected all offers for a new partner. Jake guessed that Lyle cared about his father almost as much as he did, and wanted to remember him as his only partner. Lyle was also something of a mentor for Jake ever since his father died, and was like a father figure to him. Jake loved him almost as much as he did his own family, but sometimes he wondered why his parents' killer never went after Lyle as well.

At the corner of the streets where Jamison and Ryan was, Jake found a very old-fashioned car parked illegally. Getting off his bike, he took out his ticket book from a compartment, along with a pen, wrote a parking ticket, and placed it on the car's windshield. Not a very exciting start to his first day on the job, but at least he was doing something.

When he returned to his bike, however, he heard a call from Dispatch. They were calling him, Roamer One. They instructed him to see the woman at Carter's Marina to investigate a report of domestic violence, and to proceed at Code 2. Jake responded with a 10-4, and was soon on his way.

"I guess I get to see some action, after all," he thought. "I just hope nobody gets hurt, especially not the innocent party!"


	3. Action at the Marina

**Action at the Marina**

* * *

Carter's Marina was a haven for yachts and other popular pleasure boats by the beach, in the southeast part of the city. It's owner, hence its name, was Mr. Carter, a decent enough man who took good care of his wharf and his convenience store, and catered to a lot of people. It was, overall, a happy place to be normally, a place to prepare to go out on a fun boat ride. But today, evidently, something not so fun was happening down there, and Jake Ryan intended to check it out and stop it.

When he arrived at the Marina, Jake saw a young woman standing there waiting for him, just like Dispatch had said. She was comforting a young boy who looked to be about the same age that Jake was when he lost his parents. Jake got off his bike and walked up to them.

"I'm Officer Ryan, ma'am. What can you tell me about this incident?" said Jake.

"Oh, officer, I'm so glad you arrived," the woman said, "I found Skip crying over by Mr. Carter's. It's that Bradford Green. He's been beating people up again! Just look at how he beat up this poor little boy!"

Jake looked at the boy in question more closely. A couple of bruises were on his face, and he also had a black right eye. Jake asked him if he knew anything about this.

"Please help my mom! Please don't let Brad hurt my mommy! Brad has a gun!" Skip rambled loudly.

Apparently, Skip's mother was in trouble. Jake went back to his bike to make a quick call to Dispatch. He called in a 10-97, meaning that he arrived at the scene, and then requested a 10-35, backup. Dispatch 10-4d him and said that Victor 33 would arrive in five minutes. He walked back to the woman and Skip.

"The boy's mother is still in there, officer," she explained hurriedly, "When I saw Skip crying by Carter's, I started to take him back to the yacht. But then, I heard a woman screaming from the yacht, so I brought Skip here. It's rather quiet now, but I'm afraid something terrible might have happened by now. Please, do something, officer!"

"Which yacht is this Bradford Green in, ma'am?" he asked.

"It's about eight slips down, on the left," she replied.

Jake told her that as soon as his backup arrived, he would go investigate. Then he instructed her to take the boy up the street and wait for the ambulance. She and Skip were on their way. A few minutes later, Victor 33 finally arrived. _What do you know?_ Jake thought. _It's Doug! I had no idea we'd be working together this soon in my career! I must be jinxed!_

"What's going on, Ryan?" asked Doug cheerfully.

Jake quickly filled him in on the situation. "Let's get going, Doug!"

"Right behind you, Jake," Doug replied. They walked down the pier until they reached the yacht in question. The side of the yacht said that it was named, "FUTURE WAVE."

For some reason, Jake felt compelled to take a big hook, like an anchor, from a box marked "FIRE." Then he shouted, "Ahoy there! Future Wave! This is the police! We're coming onboard!" There was no response.

Jake and Doug went to the back of the yacht and entered it. Jake knocked on the back door and announced that it was the police again. Still, nobody replied. Jake cautiously slid the door open, and they went inside. Another door slid shut in front of them. Jake looked around the room they were in, and among the furniture and some broken dishes, he found some scattered baseball cards on the floor. He wondered if the baseball cards belonged to the boy, Skip.

He and Doug walked to each side of the next door, drew and loaded their guns, and announced themselves once more, saying that they were coming in. The door opened. A man's voice shouted, "You pigs come any closer and I'll blow her brains out!"

The two cops darted inside the bedroom and observed the scene. A large, hairy man with a full, heavy beard was holding a young woman dressed in a red blouse and black shorts at gunpoint. _He must be Bradford Green_, thought Jake.

Green threatened them again. Jake ordered him to drop the gun and back away from her.

"Fuck yourself, pig!" Green mocked him.

The distressed woman said, "Please! Don't let him shoot me!"

"You'd better listen to the poor little girl, guys," Green said. "Drop your guns and back away, let me escape, and I'll let little Miss Priss here go!"

"You're only digging yourself into a deeper hole, mister," said Jake. "Think about what you're doing, and let the woman go!" He knew that the best way to solve a situation like this, and it was to talk the suspect out of carrying out his threat, so that's what he was doing.

"Over my dead body!" Green mocked again.

"Oh, please! Do what he says!" the woman pleaded, "Don't let him hurt me anymore!"

Suddenly, Doug said, "I'm not going to stand by and let him shoot her, Jake. I'm lowering my gun." He put his pistol on the floor. Jake couldn't believe it! He thought he could count on Doug in a situation like this. And now Doug was giving in to a dangerous would-be killer! But he still wouldn't drop his own gun.

"You'd better show the same common sense your partner did, fool," growled Green.

But Jake had more to say. "You hurt anybody here and you're one dead punk! They'll need a bucket and shovel to pick up what's left of you, scumbag! Drop the gun!"

Suddenly, something seemed to click in the would-be killer's head. The words "bucket" and "shovel" had a disturbing effect on him. He finally dropped the gun on the bed and let the woman go. She quickly walked away from him to the safely of the police officers.

Jake ordered him to turn around and put his hands behind his head. Green did. Jake stepped forward and handcuffed the man. He took the suspect's .357 handgun from the bed, and then searched him. He found a concealed knife in Green's clothes, too. Jake wisecracked about the suspect's "nervousness" causing him to carry two weapons on his person. Green back-talked profanely. Jake also read Green his Miranda rights, which he read off of his Miranda card, and asked him if he understood them.

"Yeah, so what?" said Green defiantly.

Next, Jake walked over to the traumatized woman, who was obviously still in shock. She was quite attractive for someone who had just gone through a bad experience. Jake stared at her for a moment. Then he remembered that he was on duty, and that this woman was in no position to be spoken casually to at this time and place, and composed himself. He asked her what was her name.

"It's Laura. Laura Dixon," she replied, "Is my son all right?"

Jake smiled. "He didn't look too bad. Paramedics are looking him over right now. Can you tell me what happened here?"

Laura almost cried, but then she composed herself too and seemed to draw strength from inside. "Well, first Brad, who _was_ my boyfriend, got drunk. Then he started to get angry because Skip was scattering his baseball cards all over the place. And just because Skip wasn't picking them up fast enough, Brad started to hit him! When I tried to stop him, he threw down Skip and attacked me. When I started screaming, he threw me against the table, and when we heard you, he grabbed me and drew his gun. He dragged me into the bedroom and took me hostage, and well, you know the rest."

"I'm very sorry you and your son had to go through this, Ms. Dixon," Jake said.

Laura smiled gratefully. "I'm indebted to you, officer…?"

"Ryan. Jake Ryan," Jake introduced himself.

"Officer Ryan," she continued, "I don't know how to thank you. My son and I could have been dead by now."

Jake smiled again. "The paramedics are here, ma'am," he said, "Why don't you have them take a look at you?"

Laura nodded, and left the yacht and the Marina to see the paramedics.

Doug said, "I'll drop Mr. Personality down at the City Jail now, Jake."

Jake turned toward him, and his smile turned into a frown. "You may not care about your own life, Doug," he scolded him, "but don't ever drop your gun when backing me up."

"Yeah, you're right, Jake. I'm sorry. I won't let it happen again."

"Listen here, you slimy little rent-a-cop," said Green angrily, "If I didn't have these handcuffs on, I'd make hamburger meat outta you!"

"Right," said Doug, "They all say that. Let's go." Doug led Bradford Green to his squad car and took him to jail.

And with Laura and Skip safely in the hands of the paramedics, Jake also left the scene and returned to his motorcycle.

He sent in a 10-27 over his police radio, and Dispatch said that Bradford Green had no wants, and no warrants. Then he called in a 10-15, letting them know that Bradford Green was in custody, and finally sent out a 10-98, meaning that the scene was clear. Dispatch 10-4d all of these messages and gave him their answers.

It was time to resume his beat, but since Jake had made the arrest and still held the evidence, he had to go to the City Hall and Jail and book Bradford Green, and then drop the evidence off with Barry at the police station.

"Not bad for my first bit of real action on the job," he thought to himself. "Now, if only my backup, like Doug, can learn how to back me up properly. I would think that Doug would have known that, since he's been on the force longer than I have."


	4. Book Him!

**Book Him!**

* * *

The Jackson Beach Jail was to the north of the Marina. There was nothing particularly unique about it that Jake knew of. It was just another jail for suspects and prisoners next door to the City Hall, with an Information desk, a Hall of Records, and a holding cell where the suspects were booked. But upon entering the jail, Jake was soon to learn that there were some interesting people inside.

At the entrance were the desks for the Information clerk and the Hall of Records clerk. He decided to spare a few minutes to say hello to them. He walked up to the Hall of Records clerk first.

"Hello. How's it going?" he asked the clerk. He didn't fail to notice that the clerk looked a lot like he might have been a cop himself once. He was early-middle-aged, with light brown hair and a well-groomed mustache.

The man smiled. "Can't complain. How about you, officer?"

"I'm pretty good, thanks," said Jake.

"Listen, officer," said the clerk, "I'd like to spend more time chatting with you, but I'm afraid I'm a little busy at the moment, and I have a feeling that you're a little busy, too."

"Yeah, you're right," said Jake, "Okay. I'll let you work. But is it all right if I talk to the Information clerk for a few minutes?"

"Be my guest, officer," said the man, and got back to work.

Jake walked over to the Information desk and took in the sexy young woman sitting behind it. She had long hair and the face of an adolescent girl. It was almost as if she was even younger than people in these kinds of jobs normally were, and was some sort of genius back in school and college. Jake could feel a slight twitch in his pants. He fought to keep it down while on-duty and spoke to her at last.

"Hi, you're new here, aren't you?" he asked her.

She smiled in a very charming way. "I've been here a couple of months," she replied.

He smiled back. "Can you answer all my questions?"

"Ask me something and we'll see," she said. The smile never left her face.

He could tell that she liked him about as much as he liked her, at least, he hoped so. "I'm Officer Jake Ryan," he introduced himself, "What's your name?"

"Hayley McCoy," she introduced herself back, "My friends call me Hayley. You can call me Ms. McCoy."

"Well, you are here to provide information, right?" he asked.

"That's what the sign says," she said.

He could feel himself sinking into her brown eyes like a sinking ship. His twitch in his pants returned. "What'll stop the bleeding caused by a cutting remark, Ms. McCoy?"

She raised her eyebrows. It was like she knew about his horniness. "In your case, a little direct pressure, carefully applied."

He blushed. "Well, thank you for your time, Ms. McCoy," he said, "but I'm a little busy right now. I'm on-duty, and I have a suspect to book right now."

"That's fine," said Hayley, "Maybe I'll see you around, Hot Pencil."

He gave her a friendly wave. Just before stepping into the booking room, he wondered if he was in love, already. Then he thought about their conversation a little more rationally and decided that it was driven more by hormones than by true romance. Still, Ms. McCoy was one Hot Pencil herself, and even if they never got together for a date, their little talk showed that Jake had the stuff to impress women now.

In the booking room, he found the holding cell, which Bradford Green was sitting inside of right now, and a jailer standing behind the booking window. There were also booking slips in a tin container on the wall by the window. _Strange, _he thought. _That jailer looks strangely familiar. It's Barry! But how does he switch jobs between evidence keeping and booking so quickly, and why? _He decided to find out.

"Hey, Barry!" he greeted the jailer, "What are you doing here? Who's running evidence back at the station?"

The jailer looked exactly like Barry, even down to the exact same kind of glasses, but he said, "Oh, I'm not Barry. I'm Larry. Barry's my brother, my identical twin brother."

Jake blinked. "Oh!" he said, "I had no idea there were any twins working on the police force here at Jackson Beach! It's good to meet you, Larry!"

"Same here, Officer…?"

"Ryan. Jake Ryan," Jake said. "I'm a new rookie on the force."

"That's great," said Larry, "It's good to see that we're getting more helping hands in the dirty business of crime fighting instead of less."

Jake took a booking form from the tin container. He looked at the suspect's Driver's ID and filled out the necessary information on the slip. Then he turned it into Larry. "Here you go, Larry," he said, "Here's his ID and booking slip. This should all make sure he stays in jail, where he belongs."

"Excellent!" said Larry, "Here's your copy of the booking slip and your handcuffs." He handed the slip and the cuffs back to Jake. Then he left the window to attend to other business.

Before leaving for the station to drop off the evidence, Jake paid Green a quick visit in the cell. "Enjoy your stay, Mr. Green. Hope it's a nice, long one."

Green replied, "I've got friends. They'll have me out of here before dark."

"Keep thinking that way," said Jake, "The world loves an optimist." And with that, he left the jail, returned to his bike, and drove to the police department.

* * *

Jake met Barry and mentioned that he had met his twin brother, Larry, at the jail. "Yes," said Barry, "I thought you guys might meet sometime soon. He's a really nice guy, don't you think?"

"I think he is," said Jake.

"Me, too," said Barry, "We look after each other as often as we can. Anyway, you got anything to turn in to me?"

"As a matter of fact, yes," said Jake. "I took the following items from one Bradford Green, a troublemaker with a deadly weapon at Carter's Marina. Actually, there were two deadly weapons in his possession." He handed over the .357 Magnum and the pocket jackknife.

"Whoa," said Barry, "Wicked weapons. These .357 Magnums are very nice handguns. I'd hate to think about a dangerous criminal holding one of these."

"I agree," said Jake. "And, I think you need this too, right?" He showed Barry the booking slip.

"Really, Jake," said Barry, "Police officers should know that booking slips go in Sgt. Sutter's mail slot! But since you're a brand new rookie, I'll gladly forgive you this time. Just try to remember the police procedures they taught you at the academy a little better."

"Thanks. Sorry, Barry," said Jake, hiding his embarrassment. He put the booking slip in the Sergeant's mail slot, and then he said goodbye to Barry, returned to his bike again, and resumed his patrol.


	5. Punks in the Military?

**Punks in the Military?**

* * *

After a short while patrolling the streets again, Jake encountered a purple pick-up truck in the Tower District, which was driving erratically for some reason. When he tried to make it pull over, he eventually succeeded, but not before the occupants gave him a good, long chase, trying to lose him. They pulled over to the curb and stopped. So did Jake. The occupants looked at him nervously. He could see that they were wearing gang colors.

The passenger suddenly got out of the car and boldly walked partway toward Jake on the curb. Jake quickly let Dispatch know of a 10-97, that he had arrived at a scene, and because he was in the Tower District, he also called a 10-35, backup, to help him with the situation at Tower and Palm. Dispatch told him that Victor 33 was on his way immediately.

Jake 10-4d Dispatch. Then he thought to himself, "Uh, oh! I'm stuck with Doug Harrison again! The guy who almost let me down when we faced Bradford Green! Well, I just hope he's truly learned his lesson from last time, because this situation could be even more dangerous."

In a few minutes, Victor 33 pulled up, and Doug got out of the car. He asked what was the deal. Jake explained that these two gang members were acting pretty suspicious, and asked him to cover him while he checked it out.

"You got it, Jake," replied Doug.

Jake walked over to the passenger and the gang member threatened him, "You get in my face an' I'll pop ya, man!"

Jake, unafraid, simply said, "Stay where you are, sir, and put your hands in the air."

"Sheeeit, man! You homes pushin' this bullshit way too far, man!" complained the punk, but he did as he was told.

"Turn around and put your hands behind your head, mister," Jake ordered the suspect.

"Damn, homes! Why are ya ridin' my jock, man?" the suspect said.

Jake told Doug to watch the driver, and that he would "deal with this clown." Doug agreed to this.

Jake cuffed the suspect quietly. Then he asked him, "Why were you trying to run away from me? You hiding something in that truck?"

"I don't gotta tell ya nothin', homes. I watch TV. I know my rights," the suspect mocked him.

"Come on man, what's in the truck?" demanded Jake calmly.

"You tell me, homes, you're the one with da badge!" he mocked him again.

Jake grinned. He took that as an invitation, or a wish, from this foul-mouthed punk. "Thanks for the information, mouth," he said with a humorless smile.

"MOUTH? I ain't take no crap like that from you man!" the suspect persisted. "Don't push me man, I'll bust a cap in your ass!"

Jake decided it was about time to search the suspect. He frisked him quickly, and found a .22 caliber pistol in his pocket, plus his ID, which identified him as Frank Sandoval.

"Hey! Didn't your mother ever warn you about carrying a concealed weapon, man, not to mention that it's a felony?" Jake taunted him.

"What you're lookin' for is a little lower and to the left, chump," Sandoval replied.

The humorless smile remained on Jake's face a moment longer. "We'll see if you're still such a wise-ass after you've been booked at the jail for carrying a concealed weapon." He then read Sandoval his Miranda rights.

Next, Jake walked over to the driver's seat of the car, bringing Sandoval with him, to make sure that he didn't try to run away. "Get out of the car, sir, slowly," he said to the driver.

"Aw, homes, this is bullshit! We didn't do nothin'," the young man complained.

"Step out of the vehicle. NOW!" Jake insisted. The suspect did as he was told and slowly approached Jake.

"You were driving pretty fast, punk," Jake asked him, "What were you trying to lose me for? What have you got to hide?"

The punk laid several obscene wisecracks and vain threats on Jake, but Jake was not fazed by any of them.

Jake told Doug to cuff the "low-life." Doug proceeded to do so. Then he searched the guy, and told Jake that his Driver's ID identified him as Tyrone Walker. Doug read Walker his rights, too.

"Keep an eye on these guys, Doug," said Jake, "I'm going to check the truck."

"Sure thing, Jake," said Doug. Then he ordered Sandoval and Walker to get in the back seats of his car. Jake, meanwhile, checked the inside of the truck.

The car's interior was surprisingly clean for a punks' car. There was nothing on the dashboard or under the front seats, but he found three bullet cartridges in the glove compartment. They looked strangely like the sort of ammo one would fire from a fully automatic rifle. Why would gang members have guns like this? He checked the back seats, too. Under the rear side of one of the front seats, he found an automatic rifle and a wig. The rifle was for military use only. How could these guys have gotten their hands on a military grade automatic rifle? He wondered what the wig could be used for, as well. Taking these things as evidence of the punks' crimes, he left the truck and returned to his motorcycle.

Jake radioed Dispatch and called in a 10-27 for a subject check on Sandoval and Walker. Both of them had no want or warrants. He 10-4d them, and then called in a 10-98 at Tower and Palm, clearing the scene. Finally, he drove to the jail, to which Doug was already in-route, to book the suspects.

* * *

At the jail, Jake gave Hayley McCoy a quick flirtatious smile. She smiled back at him and waved. He entered the booking room. Inside, he said hello to Larry again and asked him how it was shaking. Larry said things were pretty good. He also remarked that Jake had better slow down the number of suspects he brought in, or he would run out of space at the jail.

Jake grinned. "Never happen, Larry."

"Doug Harrison already booked Walker," said Larry, "I just need the booking information on Sandoval."

"Comin' up, Larry," said Jake. He filled out the booking form and turned it in to Larry. "Here's his ID and booking slip. He's all checked in."

"Thanks, Jake. Here's your copy of the booking slip and your handcuffs." He handed same items over to Jake, and walked away to other business again.

Before leaving, Jake paid the suspects another visit in the holding cell. He hoped that they would find the accommodations to their liking.

"I won't be around long enough to find out!" said Walker.

"You'd better watch your back man," said Sandoval, "I know who you are."

Again, Jake shrugged off their threats and wisecracks, and left the jail to turn in the evidence at the station.

* * *

Back at the police headquarters, Jake greeted Barry again, and turned in the evidence again. Then he put the booking slip in Sergeant Sutter's mail slot again, remembering this time not to give it to Barry. After this, one of his superiors informed him that his shift was over for the day, and that he could put his civilian clothes back on and go home, or wherever he felt like going. Grateful for the temporary respite in police work, Jake changed clothes and left, getting on his personal motorcycle and driving home to his Grandma Frannie.


	6. Love in the Family

**Love in the Family**

* * *

Grandma Frannie's house was in the far southwest of Jackson Beach. It was a large, beautiful house painted pink on the outside. Jake hadn't always felt comfortable with that color, but Frannie insisted that it made her feel like an individual in a city full of many so-called "normal" houses with "normal" paint jobs. Jake had called it home ever since the deaths of his parents, and Grandma Frannie had taken very good care of him, raising him to be a man with morals and ethics, as well as a strong man who could handle almost any threat that challenged him. She didn't care much for his occasional bad language, saying that only the dirty people of America should talk that way, so he never said a bad word when she was in a room with him.

Shortly before starting at the police academy, Frannie had promised Jake that when he was ready to start his career, and he made plans to live with a possible girlfriend or fiancé, she would let him move out and into a place of his own. Well, with his career as a police officer officially begun, he guessed that day wasn't far off. He loved his grandmother dearly, but he privately looked forward to getting his own place. In his adult years, he felt a little funny still living with his widowed grandmother.

Jake stepped into the living room and looked around. There were a few pictures of him and his dad on the wall above the fireplace, and it made him very proud every time he looked at them. As usual, the TV set was on, too. Grandma Frannie was washing dishes in the kitchen sink. She preferred washing dishes the old-fashioned way, rather than using a dishwashing machine. Jake often marveled at her seemingly limitless stamina. A fire was in the fireplace. Jake also admired an afgan lying on the couch, which Grandma Frannie had knitted a year after his parents' murder, and the refrigerator, which seemed like an old friend. When he was finishing reminiscing on all the decorations in the living room and kitchen, he walked over to the sink and said "hi" to Frannie.

She turned towards him and smiled warmly. "I'm glad you made it home, grandson," she said, hugging him. "How was your day?"

"Well, a little tough. I had to make three arrests and save a woman held at gunpoint, but I'm fine. I didn't get hurt," he said. She smiled happily again.

"Oh, Jake," she said suddenly, "Speaking of that woman, Child Protective Services called for you earlier. They say that her little boy, Skip, lost one of his baseball cards, which they believe Mr. Carter has down at the Marina. They would like you to run down to the Marina and pick it up, and then bring it to CPS to return to Skip. Skip's hysterical about losing that baseball card, and they thought that giving it back to him might calm him down."

Jake stared for a moment. He had been hoping to relax after his hard first day, and now his grandmother was asking him to pick up a baseball card from the Marina to return to the little boy he met today. "Oh, for crying out loud. Why are they calling me, of all people? I've had a long day, and-"

"JAKE!" interrupted Frannie, "I'm surprised at you! Surely that little boy has had a more difficult day than you have. I thought I raised you better than that."

"But Gran-" Jake started to say.

"Do you remember the time when your father, God rest his soul, went out and got you that special baseball card you wanted so when you broke your leg?" Frannie demanded. "That little boy doesn't even have a father. I would think you would know what that's like."

Jake felt a little ashamed of himself. He should have known better. He lost his own father, and mother, and now here he was, selfishly wishing he could have time to himself when a young boy he had just helped earlier today needed it. "You're right, Gran," he said apologetically, "I'm sorry. I guess I just didn't think." Then an idea came to him. "How about if I bring the kid and his mother home for dinner? That might help calm him down, too."

Frannie's scolding look changed back to a warm smile. "Of course, Jake. We're having pot roast tonight. Dinner's on me."

"I'll see you shortly, Gran," said Jake as he returned to his bike.

"Don't forget to invite them home for dinner, dear, like you said," she shouted after him.

* * *

At the Marina, Jake pulled over his bike, and walked off to the side, to where the Marina boat rental and bait shop was. Hopefully, Mr. Carter was still open tonight. On a bulletin board attached to a wooden pole, he found a note that said Skip Dixon's card was found by Mr. Carter and was ready for pickup. He took the note off the bulletin board and went into the boat rental.

Mr. Carter was standing behind the counter, as Jake had hoped. Jake introduced himself as the police officer who was there earlier to stop the domestic disturbance, and turned over the note to him. "I would really like to give the baseball card back to him, if that's okay."

"Of course, Officer Ryan," said Mr. Carter, "Here you go. You know, not many folks would do such a generous thing as you are doing right now. I think you deserve some recognition for your actions."

Jake thanked him humbly, but decided not to tell him that his grandmother had to urge him into doing it.

"While we're at it," said Mr. Carter, "here's a couple of boat rental discount coupons for free. It's the least I can do to thank you for your generosity, officer. You deserve some kinda reward."

"Thanks again, Mr. Carter, I appreciate it," said Ryan, taking the card and the discount coupons. "I'll bet Skip will really be glad to get his card back!" With that, Jake went back to his motorcycle and drove with speed to the Child Protective Services.

* * *

At the CPS, he met Skip and Laura Dixon in the waiting room. He had to admit Laura was twice as attractive now as she had been when she had been held hostage by Bradford Green. She was now dressed in a black tank top and light gray pants, and her long, brown hair (not quite as long as Hayley's) was brushed back into its proper style. He supposed that's what happened when a woman recovered from a traumatic experience and got in a better mood. Skip looked like he had mostly recovered (his black eye and bruises were apparently gone), but he looked restless to get his card back.

Jake walked over to them. "Hello, Ms. Dixon, how are you?"

She smiled at him with a smile that made him feel like he was not just living by the beach, but actually _on_ the beach. When she spoke, he felt the air crashing in around them like waves. "You can call me Laura. And I'm doing fine, thanks. It's Skip that's troubled. He wants his baseball card back."

Jake moved over to Skip and generously handed over the card. "I believe this is yours, Skip," he said kindly.

Skip was wide-eyed, and for possibly the first time that day, he smiled. "Wow! I never thought I'd get this back!"

"What do you say, son?" Laura reminded her son.

"Thank you, sir," he said to Jake sincerely.

"You're welcome, Skip," Jake replied, "I'm Police Officer Jake Ryan, by the way. I'm a new cop, but I think I've made a pretty good start."

"I'll say you have," said Skip excitedly, "I hear you really showed a thing or two to Brad on that boat!"

Jake smiled modestly, trying not to look overly proud of himself. "Say, why don't you two come on over to my house for dinner tonight?"

"Oh, that's not necessary…" said Laura.

"I think you'll like it. My grandma's a great cook, and besides, if you don't come, she make me eat it all myself!"

Skip looked really eager to go. "Please, mom?" he begged her.

"Oh, all right," she said with another of her disarming smiles. "I'm sure we'll love it. Let's go, Officer Ryan."

Jake grinned. "Please, call me Jake." And they were on their way back to Grandma Frannie's, Jake on his motorcycle and Laura and Skip in their family car.

* * *

At Grandma Frannie's, Laura and Skip took an almost immediate liking to Frannie. She was so generous with the food, the comfort, and the household morale. Evidently, Jake and Frannie got along very well, and loved each other dearly. Over their pot roast dinner, Jake told them about some of the good things, as well as some of the tragic things, in his life. Skip was very interested to hear that Jake had a great affinity for baseball, too, and had collected his share of baseball cards over his childhood. He also told them of the tragic deaths of his parents and how the case was still unsolved. Laura and Skip offered him and his grandmother their condolences. He concluded his part of the conversation by talking about the experiences he had at the police academy and how his father's heroic service inspired him to swear an oath to be a good cop himself one day.

Skip pressed Jake to know all about his own baseball card collection for fifteen minutes, give or take, but his mother finally talked him out of "pestering" Jake about it.

"Sorry. Mom," said Skip cheerfully. "They are cool cards, though."

"It was a pleasure, Skip," said Jake.

"Did everyone get enough to eat?" asked Frannie.

"Yes, it was very good, Mrs. Ryan," said Laura, "Thank you so much."

"Say why don't we go for a walk outside, for just a little while, and leave the dishes for the moment?" asked Jake.

"I'd love to do that, " said Laura, "I enjoy walking on the beach!"

"Mom, can I come, too?" asked Skip.

"Of course you can, if it's all right with Jake and Mrs. Ryan," she replied.

"It's all right with me," said Jake, "I wouldn't mind your company out there." In actuality, he was eager to go out there with Laura and Skip, though he wasn't altogether sure why.

"You kids go on ahead," said Frannie, "I'll take care of cleaning up the dishes."

"Thanks, Gran," Jake thanked her.

* * *

They stepped outside the house onto the back porch. She didn't want to say anything about it in front of her impressionable son, but Laura noticed a portrait of a Polynesian nude woman by the glass door out to the back porch. _Interesting,_ she thought. _I'll have to ask Jake about this when I have a private moment with him._

On the porch, along with a few chairs and potted plants, there was a doghouse, and a medium-sized Labrador Retriever was sitting by it. He had been sleeping until Jake and his company arrived. Now he was wide-awake, and looked as eager to go out on the beach as they were.

"That's a nice dog," Laura complimented him. "What's his name?"

"Waylon," replied Jake. "Here, I'll untie him so he can join us on the beach." He untied Waylon's leash from the doghouse, and the dog promptly scuttled over to Skip and greeted him enthusiastically.

"Hey!" said Skip, "I think Waylon likes me! Can I go and play with him just a little while we're at the beach, mom, Mr. Ryan?"

Jake and Laura agreed that this was all right. Opening the little gate to the porch, Jake said to Waylon, "Go! Go on, Waylon! Go play with Skip for a while. Go on!" With enthusiasm, Skip and Waylon ran down the back stairs and toward the cool beach. Laura and Jake followed, and they stood together by the water, taking in the night sky and the full moon.

Jake looked at Laura. He successfully noticed that she looked particularly beautiful in the moonlight. He liked the way the light of the moon made the skin on her face and arms shine like pale silver.

"Isn't it a beautiful evening, Laura?" Jake asked her as they started to walk in one direction.

"Yeah, it's mesmerizing," she said, "I love the ocean. I love everything about it. I love the feel of the beach by the ocean, the color and smell of the seawater, the rythym of the waves, swimming in the sea, and even most of the animal life that lives in the sea. It helps me relax after a hard or busy day."

"I know the feeling," said Jake, "I find it relaxing, too. Say, how did you ever get mixed up with a scoundrel like Bradford Green?"

Laura looked at the moon. "Oh, I' don't know, exactly," she said. "I first met him at Tony's Lounge once, about a month ago. I don't normally drink, but Skip was at school, and I just happened to be in the mood to look for a sexy man to call my own. Brad seemed to like the look of me and said that he could fix all of my problems. I guess he was either wrong or lying, now. You've probably noticed by now that I'm a single mother."

"Yeah," said Jake, "How was Skip born? Or did you adopt him?"

Laura looked distant for a moment. "I had an affair once, with a twenty year old kid who promised me the best sex I'd ever had. I was eighteen at the time, and not ready for a pregnancy, nor for my lover's betrayal. He gave me great sex, all right, but when I was found out to be pregnant, he didn't want to get involved with the responsibilities of being an underage parent, and abandoned me. I had to give birth and raise Skip all by myself. But I was (and still am) a strong woman, and didn't give into the easy way to solve the problem, which was abortion. I raised him by myself, and look at what a good little boy he is now!"

Jake took this all in, and was amazed at how enduring and powerful Laura Dixon was. It almost made him wonder if he and she were equals when it came to strength. "Well, I'm sorry he abandoned you, Laura, but I'm proud of you for doing so much for your son when you had no one else to help you."

"Thank you, Jake," said Laura, "In fact, I didn't even have my parents at the time. I was living in a foster home, and my foster parents cared about me, but not enough to dig me out of my affair and my pregnancy, and they threw me out of their house as soon as baby Skip was born."

"I guess we have something in common, then," said Jake. "We both had hard, tragic childhoods and youths, but we got through them and made it to where we are today."

Laura now looked at Jake, and there was a real understanding there. Jake suddenly started to feel similarly to the way he did when he met Hayley McCoy at the City Jail, except for that he and Hayley were simply flirting like a couple of naïve schoolchildren, while with Laura, it seemed to be a little more serious, like he _really cared about her,_ and his empathy for Skip was growing, too. He started to think to himself, "Could it be? No, no! It couldn't! There's almost no such thing as love at first sight. If there had been, I would probably have fallen in love with Hayley just today. Then again, I _did_ meet Laura before I met Hayley."

Laura noticed by now that he, too, looked distant. "Are you all right, Jake?" she asked him.

Jake came out of his reverie. "Yes, of course I am, Laura," he stuttered. He decide to change the subject briefly.

"Did you enjoy going out on the Future Wave with Bradford?" he asked.

"I sure did," said Laura, "though with Brad and me broken up, I'm not sure if I'll get the chance anymore. Why?"

"Well, I'm curious, Laura," he asked, "How does Bradford Green afford a yacht like that?"

"Oh, he doesn't own it himself," she answered, "He just lives on it, and takes care of it. I hear that some big-shot lawyer or judge owns it. Maybe that big-shot and Brad are clandestinely friends, or something."

"Hmm, interesting," said Jake. "That information might help me or the entire police force figure out what Bradford is up to, because I have a feeling we haven't seen the last of him. Anyway, I love the beach almost as much as you do, I think. It really clears my head after a long day's stress."

"Me, too," said Laura, "It's like a miracle worker. You know, you're really lucky to have a place like this."

"Yeah, I guess I am," said Jake.

"And you know what else?" she asked. "I think we're both really lucky to have met each other. You're not like any of the other guys I dated. You're like…a hero to me. And another thing…you have a picture of a Polynesian nude woman in your house. I don't think that's the type of thing your Grandma Frannie would normally have put up for her own benefit. In fact, I'll bet you're the kind of man who loves to see a young woman's breasts, am I right?"

Jake wondered what she meant by that. He stopped wondering when suddenly, she grabbed his head by the face and kissed him romantically on the mouth. He responded in kind. They kissed long and deeply. Things started to heat up even more when Laura felt underneath his short-sleeved shirt and touched his chest.

Then, to his surprise, she slipped out of her tank top and stripped him of his shirt, and she pulled him to the sand with her. The skin on her body gleamed pure silver in the moonlight. His hands were all over her, stroking her smooth back. They kissed each other all over. Laura rubbed her breasts up and down his muscular chest. They got lost in each other's feelings for each other, and during that time, time seemed to stop.

Laura put her mouth to Jake's ear and whispered, and he could hear the warm smile in her voice, "I think I'm falling in love with you."

"Maybe I was wrong," thought Jake with amusement, "Maybe there is love at first sight. If there is, I think I've just found my lover, right here in my arms!"

A moment later, though, Jake got up and grabbed his shirt. "I think we've lingered here too long," he said, "I'd better go and check on Skip and Waylon."

"That's a good idea, Jake," said Laura, "Go on ahead. I'll be right behind you."

Giving Laura's upper body one more approving look, Jake put on his shirt and jogged back down the beach to where Skip and Waylon were playing.

"Hey, Mr. Ryan!" shouted Skip, "You should have seen how funny Waylon has been acting since we started playing. He never gets tired of playing "fetch the stick," and doesn't want to play anything else."

Jake laughed. "Yeah, Waylon is often like that. Sorry, I should've told you. Here, let me play with him for a bit."

"Sure, Mr. Ryan," Skip said.

Jake picked up a piece of driftwood Waylon had been fetching, and tossed it into the sea. Waylon ran after it and retrieved it, bringing it back to Jake. Jake and Waylon did it a second time. Then they did it a third time. This time, however, instead of the driftwood, Waylon brought what had to be a piece of a packing wooden crate. Surprised, but deciding to keep it in case it turned out to be useful, he went back to Laura, who was wearing her tank top again, and said that it was getting cold, and that they'd better go back inside. So all of them, including the dog, went back up to the house, Jake tied Waylon's leash to the doghouse again, and they went inside.


	7. A Lead in the Case

**A Lead in the Case**

* * *

Back inside the house, Grandma Frannie was sitting on the couch across from another man sitting on the fireplace hearth. Jake recognized him the moment he saw him. He was the man who had made it possible for Jake Ryan for fulfill his dream and his oath to become a police officer.

"Jake, look who stopped by," said Frannie.

"Oh, hi, Lyle," Jake greeted him with enthusiasm, "Laura, I'd like you and Skip to meet someone. Lyle, this is Laura Dixon and her son, Skip. Laura, Skip, this is Lyle Jamison, an old friend of the family, and my father's former partner."

"Nice to meet you, Lyle," said Laura, shaking his hand.

"Same here, Ms. Dixon," said Lyle pleasantly.

"You were Jake's dad's partner in the police force?" Skip asked.

"That's right, son," said Lyle.

"Lyle's been like a father to Jake ever since John died," said Frannie.

For some reason, Lyle seemed a little uncomfortable with that statement. "Don't get started, Frannie," he said.

"Oh, yes, sorry, Lyle," said Frannie.

"Well, I guess Skip and I should be going home now," said Laura, "It was really great meeting you all, though, and I hope we can get together another time, too."

"Me too!" said Skip.

"Maybe that can be arranged," said Lyle, "I wouldn't mind finding out a little more about you, myself."

"Thank you, Lyle," said Laura. "Well, goodbye, Jake, and you too, Frannie. It was very nice coming over here tonight."

"Any time, dear," said Frannie nicely.

Laura hugged Jake before leaving. She whispered in his ear again, "Maybe sometime, we can get to know each other even better. Somehow, I don't think Brad and I have any future together anymore, and besides, I think you're one heck of a lover."

Jake blushed.

Skip hugged Jake, too. "It was great getting to know you, Mr. Ryan," he said with a grin. "I hope we can see you again. You're one cool dude!"

"Thank you, Skip," said Jake, "You take good care of those baseball cards." And with that, Jake saw Laura and Skip to the front door and said good night. Then he walked over to Lyle to talk to him.

"I just wanted to congratulate you on your first day as a cop, Jake," Lyle said, "I'm really proud of you, son."

"Thank you, Lyle," said Jake. "I couldn't have done it without you."

"Yes," said Lyle, "For being such a snot-nosed little brat as a kid, you turned out pretty well."

Jake chuckled in embarrassment.

"So, who's the girl? She's pretty," said Lyle.

"She's someone I met today," Jake replied, "Her former boyfriend beat up on her son and held her at gunpoint."

Lyle raised an eyebrow. "So you're picking up battered women now?"

"No, no," said Jake, hiding his true feelings for Laura for now, "She just needed a friend to lean on. Besides, you know me; the only things I could ever pick up were pieces of junk off the beach."

"That's you," said Lyle, but deep down, Jake had a feeling that Lyle knew, or at least suspected, the truth, especially after Lyle said, "I noticed the way she whispered in your ear, and the smile on her face at the time. If you _do_ have something going on with her, you have my blessing, but watch yourself. This former boyfriend of hers may return, and get you in unspeakable trouble for getting his girl."

Jake nodded. "I understand, Lyle. By the way, speaking of pieces of junk, my dog, Waylon, found this in the water just off shore. What do you make of it?" He showed him the broken piece of the packing crate.

Lyle identified it as a packing crate, the blatantly obvious, but then they noticed that there were fresh letters and numbers on it, that identified it as a crate for packing guns.

"We were talking about something like this in today's briefing about the armory heist in Strathmore. It could be connected with-"

"No, don't get started with that again, Jake," interrupted Lyle. "Every time a case involving a gun comes up, you suspect that it's connected with your parents' murder. Listen, I don't know if that case is ever going to be solved. The trail has been cold for almost as long as it's been since the crime was committed. Your father and mother are gone, Jake. Nothing's going to bring them back. They're either with God in heaven now, or if there isn't a heaven, they're one with the universe. I'm really sorry you lost them, but you have to come to terms with this, especially after so many years."

Jake looked down. "Yeah, you're right, Lyle. I guess it is about time I put the past in the past. Mom and dad are gone now, and I'll never see them again, except in old photographs."

Frannie broke in. "Now don't think that way, Jake," she said, "and you too, Lyle. Of course there is a heaven. Don't doubt it, Lyle. John and Jackie truly are there. They were God-fearing and righteous, and they always prayed for forgiveness for their sins, and they always believed in heaven. And frankly, grandson, it saddens me that their murders made you disillusioned with God and Jesus. God is always with us all, and he'll always guide you in your career as a policeman. You _have_ to believe that, especially if you _do_ want to see them again one day."

Jake hung his head for a second. "Yes, I suppose you're right, Gran," he said, "Well, I'll keep that in mind as often as I can. Perhaps simply being a good cop will make God happy as well as my parents. After all, at church, dad always impressed on me that police officers are God's ministers and representatives of law, order and justice."

"And don't forget, I've tried to do the same ever since he died," Lyle reminded him.

"Yeah, that's true," said Jake with a slight smile.

"Good boy," said Frannie, "For now, that's all I ask, that you try to remember not only the police heritage of your father, but also your whole family's Christian heritage."

"You have a knack for finding stuff, Jake," said Lyle, suddenly changing the subject back to the packing crate. "Stop by my office tomorrow on your way to work if you find anything else interesting tonight, and maybe we can look into this gun-running case of yours."

"Thanks, Lyle," said Jake, "I appreciate it." And soon, Lyle left the house, too.

"Oh, Jake," said Frannie, "I overheard you and Skip talking about baseball cards. If you're interested, I found an old box in the garage full of your old collection of cards, if you want to look at them. I put them in the den."

"Thanks, Gran, I appreciate it," said Jake gratefully.

* * *

In the den, Jake looked around at his late grandfather's old office. It was well decorated, with lots of bookshelves, a lounging chair, and a computer. Jake was interested in checking out the computer, but first he wanted to look at his baseball cards.

The box was on the shelves. He took it down and opened it. Inside were his old collection of baseball cards and a small safe. Jake spent a few minutes sitting in the chair, enjoying looking at his old treasures, before examining the safe. It had a three-number combination. Fortunately, he knew where to look to discover the combination. His father's police badge was hanging on the wall behind him in a glass case, right next to a picture of his dad in his police uniform. The number on it was 172. He used that as the combination, and successfully opened the safe. Inside it was mostly empty, but in a corner, there was an old Indian head nickel his mother had given him once. He took it, just in case he found a use for it.

Then he sat in front of the computer and turned it on. There were the usual utilities, word processors, and computer games like _Ringworld_, in the computer's files, but he wanted to look at the Cobb case, which had to be unlocked with a password. However, he knew what the password was, due to an old love letter John had written to Jackie on the computer a little while before they died. Jake typed in "Jackie" as the password. He found a set of financial ledger pages and a blueprint for a warehouse. The ledger pages referred to the payments of shipments for automatic weapons.

Ah, ha! This looked interesting. He hadn't expected to find another lead so quickly. He knew that it was useless trying to avenge his parents' deaths according to Lyle, but he still hoped to at least put their murderer behind bars, and this could lead him to that killer. He made a printout of this information and took it.

Going back into the living room, he asked his grandmother if she was still up. She said that she was turning in for the night just then, and asked him if he enjoyed looking at his baseball cards. Jake said that he certainly did. Her heart glad, Frannie said good night to him, and he returned the good night, and they both went to their bedrooms and went to sleep.

* * *

**The next day.**

Jake got up a little extra early so he would have time to drop by Jamison and Ryan before work. Leaving a note for his grandmother, he turned on his motorcycle and drove to his father figure's office.

"Jake, how's it going?" he said to him when he came inside.

"Oh, fine," said Jake, "As a matter on fact, couldn't be better."

"I'm not sure if I quite believe that," said Lyle, "But anyway, why don't we look at the map over there, and discuss this piece of a packing crate you showed me last night?"

"I was just about to suggest that myself, Lyle," said Jake.

They took a look at a map of Jackson Beach and the little islands out in the ocean nearby.

"It's just a guess, but judging by the currents, that crate could have come from any one of the channel islands," said Lyle.

"So why don't we search the islands?" suggested Jake.

"Are you kidding?" said Lyle. "There are too many of them. We could look for a whole year and never find a thing, or our presence at the islands could scare away the perpetrators we're looking for. We need a more solid lead to go on, anything."

"Well, as a matter of fact," said Jake, "I have something that might be a solid lead." He handed over the blueprints and ledgers. "Have you ever heard of a guy named Cobb?"

Lyle's eyes brightened, just a little. "A few days before your parents were killed, John and I were rousting a guy named Cobb down at Tony's Lounge, but he got away. We tried to catch him, but we lost him in heavy traffic."

"Well, Cobb's name is on this file I found in my dad's stuff," said Jake.

"Cobb dropped something outside of the bar, but I never found out what it was," said Lyle, "Maybe it was a computer disk your father grabbed before I could see it. This could be the break we need."

"There's some stuff about Cobb and another guy with the initials S.C.," Jake informed him.

"We need more information on Cobb," said Lyle.

Jake checked his watch. "I better be getting to work now, or I'll be late."

"Sure thing, Jake," said Lyle agreeably. "If you find any more information on your folk's case, just let me know, bring it in, and I'll see what we can do. I'll call the ATF guys and see if I can get them to look into this."

"I'll FAX Richard Cobb's information to police headquarters. Maybe they have some information on him," said Jake.

"Good idea, Jake," said Lyle.

Jake put Cobb's information into the FAX machine and FAXED it to the police. When it came through, Jake was amazed, to say the least.

"Well, what do you know?" he exclaimed, "Richard Cobb's got a rap sheet as long as your arm! We can even get a mug shot of him! I should get one from Barry at the evidence lock-up. This also ties him with one Forest Follet we've been told to look out for. Follet was responsible for the burglary of the National Guard Armory."

"That fits in with the 9mm ANG ammo found in Sandoval and Walker's car," said Lyle, "The pieces are starting to fit, Jake. It's the best lead we've got. You get back to work, Jake. When you're off duty come back to me and we'll work on it."

"Yes, sir," said Jake, saluting him smartly. Then he walked back outside to his bike, ignited its engine, and drove to work at last.


	8. A Drunk and a Nosedive

**A Drunk and a Nosedive**

* * *

On the way to work, Jake thought about what he and Lyle had just discovered. Lyle had officially left the police force when it forced him to stop pursuing the Ryan, John/Jackie case, deciding that he could better serve the law as a private investigator, but even in his new, independent job, the trail was as cold as the interior of a refrigerator. But now, with this unexpected find and the burglary of the military armory in Strathmore, maybe they would finally get somewhere with the case, and they could track down his parents' killer while catching the crooks who were responsible for this automatic weapons burglary. Killing two birds with one stone, is the way people usually put it.

At the police department, Jake changed into his police uniform again, collected Richard Cobb's mug shot from Barry, and headed to the briefing room. First, though, he looked in his mail slot. There was a note from the D.A. about dismissing the charges against Bradford Green, Tyrone Walker, and Frankie Sandoval. "What? He dismissed the charges? But they were in possession of dangerous illegal weapons, for Pete's sake! And why would the D.A. favor their release over their imprisonment? Deciding to put it aside for the moment, he proceeded to the briefing room.

In the briefing, Sgt. Sutter welcomed him and the other officers, but said that there wasn't really anything new to say for this briefing, and besides, the briefing was going to be cut short due to the police inspection. The Sergeant would be running the show that day, too, due to the Captain being ill. "Let's be sharp out there!" he said in conclusion. Then he said the Jake and Doug that he wanted a word with them after the briefing. Jake imagined that it had to do with the note from the D.A.'s office. And he was right.

Outside, Sutter said to them, "Seems as though you had a bad day yesterday, Officer Ryan. Not only did our illustrious D.A. release Bradford Green, he threw out your illegal weapons arrest because of a bad search. Don't take it too hard, though. Lots of rookies make mistakes early on."

Jake was very disappointed. Evidently, the D.A. seemed to have a thing against honest cops working hard for a living. He had also made Jake look like an incompetent cop in the eyes of the public, making him seem to be his father's inferior instead of his successor. Jake wished he could give the D.A. a piece of his mind right about now.

Apparently, Doug agreed with Jake, because he said, "That's all one big crock! I was with Officer Ryan when he made that arrest. It went down by the book. I can't believe that we honest, hard-working cops bust our humps to capture these criminals, and then get all this political crap from the D.A.!"

"Calm down, Harrison," said Sutter, "Sometimes you just have to grin and bear it."

"We'll get 'em next time," Jake assured them.

"I like that attitude, Ryan," said Sutter. "Okay, you boys are dismissed. The inspection is outside in ten minutes."

The Sergeant went to his office for a few minutes, while Doug headed to the inspection. Jake walked over to the gun cleaner again and cleaned his gun, and then he followed Doug outside.

Jake and Doug stood outside in the parking lot with the other officers in a straight row. Soon, Sutter came out and did his inspection of his crew of law enforcement officers. He checked their posture, their uniforms, their cleanliness of body, and the cleanliness of their guns. When Jake's turn came, Sutter said that Ryan's gun was cleaner than Sutter's mother's wash. He also said that Jake looked really good, and that his dad would be proud. This made Jake feel a little bit better after his frustration over the D.A.'s actions.

When the inspection was over, the Sergeant went back inside, and all the police officers, including Jake and Doug, got into their patrol cars or motorcycles and began their patrol. Jake only hoped that if he and Lyle did find another lead in his parents' case, that the D.A. wouldn't stick his nose in again and ruin it, too.

After a little while on patrol, Jake got a call from Dispatch. They said that Victor 33, none other than Doug Harrison again, needed 10-35 (backup) at the Bikini Hut, and to proceed Code 2. So he said 10-4, turned his bike around, and drove to that popular bikini store in Jackson Beach.

* * *

The Bikini Hut was one hot joint at Jackson Beach. It sold swimsuits for both women and men, but it was especially popular for its bikinis, hence its name. It sold them in all colors and varieties, from white to black, and from regular to string. Jake privately fantasized what Laura Dixon and Hayley McCoy might look like in one of those stylish suits. Then he got back to the task at hand and approached Doug.

"What's going on, Doug?" he asked his friend.

"DUI," said Doug, "He's locked himself in the car and won't come out."

Jake blinked. It seemed Doug was a very sensitive officer, giving up in the face of a pathetic DUI like this. "Are you making this up?"

"No way, I'm not that original," Doug defended himself. "We've got to find a way to get him out of there."

"Have you tried talking him out?" asked Jake.

"It doesn't work," said Doug, "He's lost in his own little world, I think."

"Well, let's see what we can come up with," suggested Jake. He called in a 10-97 on his motorcycle police radio, and then looked in the trunk of Doug's squad car. There was a first-aid kit and a roadside emergency kit. Inside the latter kit were a bunch of road flares and a spring-loaded punch. Jake decided that the punch might be the ideal thing to get the drunk out of his car. He walked to the driver's window of the little red car just in time to see the man driving it taking a swig from a bottle wrapped in a paper bag.

Doug was right. The door was locked. But Jake soon solved that. He broke open the window with the spring-loaded punch, and then reached inside and unlocked the door. The door opened, and the drunken driver fell out of the car into a heap on the ground.

"Messy, but it worked," remarked Jake.

"Nicely done, Jake," said Doug, coming up behind him.

The driver mumbled incoherently about the locked door and his apologies about it.

Jake said to Doug that it was his bust, so he'd better handcuff the drunk and take him in to jail. As Doug cuffed the man, he commented, "This guy smells like he fell in the vat!"

"This is one of those times when it's nice to be a motor officer," said Jake, "I don't have to haul in the smelly drunk."

"That's okay, officers," said the drunk, "I can walk here from home."

Doug looked amused. "The ride's free. You'll enjoy it."

"Well, I'd better be getting back to my patrol," said Jake. "See you around, Doug."

"Catch ya later, Jake!" said Doug.

Jake called in a 10-15 on his bike, and then a 10-98, saying that the scene was cleared, and was on his way.

* * *

Jake patrolled around for another hour or so. Yet, he could not find any more crimes or misdemeanors to attend to. Things were starting to slow down for him. He hoped that things would pick up soon as he stopped at an intersection. Little did he know that they _would _pick up, but not in the way he was hoping for at the time.

Suddenly, as he started to cross the street, a black Firebird car hit him from the side, and the bike was shoved twenty feet from its appointed course. Jake, in turn, felt a hard pain in one of his legs and some softer, but nonetheless hard, pains in the torso as he fell from his motorcycle and collapsed to the cement of the street. All he could tell for sure as he passed out was that his helmet had prevented him from getting a concussion in his head…

* * *

The next few days, which later turned out to be weeks, were something of a blue to Jake Ryan. He did not die in that accident, but he was injured, and he remembered some things more clearly than others.

He was taken to the emergency room. His body was on a stretcher as they wheeled him towards it in a hurry. His Grandma Frannie and his new girlfriend, Laura Dixon, met at the hospital with Laura's son, Skip, and hugged in relief to hear that Jake was going to live. He spent much of his time lying in bed, staring at the ceiling or talking with Laura, Skip and Frannie, who lent him moral support as he healed. The doctor told him that he had some bruises in his torso that would heal quickly as long as he allowed them to, but his left leg suffered some damage at the knee, and that would require the most healing time.

Not all of his time was occupied by lying in bed. When his wounds had healed partway, he started to go through physical therapy. Frannie brought him his baseball cards and police officer manuals to keep him busy. He and Skip talked about baseball and compared their different baseball cards. Laura offered him some warmth of body and spirit.

All of these things made it relatively easy for him to heal after only a few weeks, and at last, he was discharged from the hospital, being taken out in a wheelchair until he was outside the doors, and being assisted into his grandmother's car by his old friend, Lyle Jamison.

_Now if only I can get back on the streets and nab these dirtbags that are spreading the cancer of crime throughout Jackson Beach!_


	9. Injuries and Evidence

**Injuries and Evidence**

* * *

Happy to be home at last, Jake was relaxing on the couch with his injured leg propped up on it. Laura and Skip had just been visiting him, and they had offered all their love to him, praying that he would recover soon, and that he could get back to work soon. Jake and Laura had exchanged another kiss, and Skip gave Jake a little bear hug before they left.

Grandma Frannie was busy doing her usual work of washing dishes in the sink, when somebody else knocked on the front door. "I'll get it, Jake," she said, "You stay off that knee."

"Thanks, Gran, I appreciate it," said Jake.

She opened the door, and she said, "Lyle! It's good to see you." Lyle was visiting him now.

"Hi, Frannie. Is Jake up and about?" asked Lyle.

"Yes," Frannie replied, "He's on the couch, resting his knee." She let Lyle come in and returned to her dishwashing, while Lyle sat down on the fireplace hearth and started to talk to Jake.

"Hey, tiger. How goes the recovery?" he asked Jake.

"My leg's still a little stiff and sore," replied Jake, "but mostly, I'm just stir-crazy. I've been sitting in this house for weeks!"

Lyle said, "Easy, Jake, you're lucky to be alive."

Jake said, "Yeah, but it's still hard being cooped up like this."

Lyle looked at him sympathetically. "You know, son," he said, "you're not doing anybody any good sitting around here waiting for your disability leave to be up. Why don't you come on down to the office and give me a hand with the case against your parents' killer again? It might do you some good to get out of the house for a while and keep your mind working. I could sure use you."

"The exercise might prevent my knee from getting so stiff," said Jake, "You know, that might not be such a bad idea."

"Then I guess it's settled," said Lyle. "As soon as you're ready, we can get started."

"Can I get you something cold to drink, Lyle?" asked Jake, starting to get up.

Lyle waved him back into his seat and said, "I'll get it, Jake. You stay off that knee."

Jake nodded. A sudden shot of pain went through his knee as Lyle got up to get his drink, and it seemed as if it was spreading to his head. He wondered if it was the drugs he was taking to ease the pain…

_There was the sound of a scuffling noise by one of the windows. Then it sounded like there were soft footsteps walking around inside, like a burglar or a prowler had snuck into the house. Twelve-year-old Jake Ryan got out of bed and rushed quietly to his parents' bedroom. He woke up his father as quickly and quietly as he could, whispering, "Dad! Wake up! Wake up! There's somebody in the house!"_

_John Ryan quickly got up from under the bed-sheets and assured him that he would take care of it. "You stay here, Jake," he said to his son, and John walked out of the bedroom to check out the noises, while his wife, Jackie Ryan, hugged Jake protectively by the bed…_

Jake came out of it. He realized he was slightly sweaty. It disturbed him that he was suddenly having these troublesome flashbacks of that terrible night of his parents' deaths. He hoped the medication didn't have anything to do with it.

Lyle came back over to the fireplace with his drink. Jake asked him, "Lyle, how much do you know about my parents' murder?"

"The best way to answer that, Jake, is to come down to my office and check out the file I've compiled on the case," replied Lyle. "I wanted you to have this. I had these printed up for the business." He handed Jake some printouts. "Well, I've got to get going. You come down to the office when you feel up to it, and we'll get started."

"Thanks, Lyle, I appreciate it," said Jake.

Lyle took one long swallow of his drink, and was on his way.

Jake noticed that Lyle had given him a plastic-coated "Jamison and Ryan" calendar, which was small enough to fit in his pocket. He sat there for a few minutes, looking at the calendar, and finally decided that there was no time like the present. Saying bye to his grandmother for the time being, he got up carefully and walked out to his motorcycle, and drove to Jamison and Ryan.

* * *

At Jamison and Ryan, Jake was surprised, and amazed, to see that the old car he had ticketed weeks ago was _still there_. Where was the car's driver, anyway? And how come it was never towed away by a tow truck? Oh, well. Jake decided that it wasn't that important to him right now, and stepped inside Lyle's office.

He said to Lyle, "I've been thinking about what you said, and I decided that getting out of the house and continuing this case _is_ good for me."

"That's great, Jake," said Lyle, "I really appreciate it. Listen, I've got an errand to run. I'll be back in a few minutes. Feel free to check out the file on the desk if you want to." He got up and walked out of the office.

The file on the desk said: "RYAN, JOHN/JACKIE – MURDER INVESTIGATION." Inside were a newspaper clipping and several police forms that detailed what little was known about the crime and the investigation.

Jake wished he hadn't seen the photos of the crime scene in the file. They made him sick, just looking at his parents' bloody bodies.

Reading the newspaper clipping caused him to flash back on that terrible night again…

_His mother was telling him to hide in the closet. "Jake! Hide in the closet!" She said this three times before Jake made it into the closet, just in time. A man with long, dark hair entered the room, his gun trained on Jackie, and opened fire twice. The pistol he was wielding looked strangely like a foreign gun, not something made in America…_

After recovering from the flashback, Jake looked at the file once more. A solitary evidence bag contained a single strip of microfiche. He reasoned that Lyle's computer might shed some light on what it said, so he took it over to Lyle's computer on the side of the room and slipped it inside the slot.

It detailed the Jackson Beach Police Department case on the John/Jackie murder investigation. It outlined the usual information as to when and where the crime occurred and who was on the case, obviously, Lyle Jamison. It proceeded to explain that John Ryan received a single gunshot wound to the chest that exited the victim after passing through it. Jackie Ryan was shot twice, once in the chest and once in the head. Bullet fragments removed from the body could not be identified.

The remains of a single bullet were taken from the south wall of the computer room. The bullet was found to be disfigured, and couldn't be positively identified, but the rifling marks didn't preclude the possibility that a 9mm Parabellum (Luger) was the murder weapon. Jake took note of this. He was sure that gun didn't look like an American pistol, and here was evidence that implied he was right.

Three cartridge cases were found at the scene, one near John, and one near Jackie. Each case bore the headstamp "9mm ANG" and identical scratch marks cause by ejection from a semi-automatic pistol with an overload ejector mechanism. A Luger was indeed the probable murder weapon. Finally, Jake saw some photos of the cartridges with 9mm ANG written all over them. Having gotten all of the information he could get out of the microfiche, Jake ejected it and turned off the computer, just in time for Lyle to return.

"Where do we go from here?" Jake asked Lyle.

"We need to see if we can dig up any more information or evidence about Richard Cobb," said Lyle, "Maybe we could see if we can find anybody who knows anything about him."

"Let's nose around town and see what we can stir up," suggested Jake.

"I'm right behind you, Jake," said Lyle. And they walked outside to Lyle's car, which was parked on the street (legally) next to the office and were on their way.


	10. Bad Guys Everywhere

**Bad Guys Everywhere**

* * *

Jake and Lyle decide to drive to Tony's Lounge first, since that's the last place John and Lyle had investigated before John was murdered. At this infamous place where the sleaze of Jackson Beach often came to get drunk and have their own version of a good time, Jake and Lyle stepped inside and took a look around. There was the usual assortment of young and middle-aged men and women playing shuffleboard, Tapper, and pool. It looked like same people were simply minding their own business to Jake and Lyle. A woman in a blue shirt was sitting alone at the bar. Tony, the bartender, stood behind the bar, ready to serve whomever wanted a drink.

Jake decided to talk to Tony. He showed his badge to the bartender and introduced himself. "Hi, I'm Tony. What can I do for ya?"

"Do you know of a man named Richard Cobb?" Jake asked him.

"Afraid not, officer," said Tony.

"Cobb used to frequent this bar about ten years ago," pressed Jake.

"I've been working this bar for the last twelve years, and I ain't seen no Richard Cobb," the bartender said patiently, "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got work to do." He returned to his job of scrubbing the bar.

But Jake wasn't going to give up that easily. He got out Cobb's mug shot and showed it to Tony. "Are you sure you've never seen this man, Richard Cobb, before?" Jake pressed him again.

Tony's face brightened a little. "As a matter of fact, I have. But I didn't know him as Richard Cobb. I only knew him as 'Snow Man.'"

Jake remembered "Snow Man" as being a nickname for Cobb, and knew that Tony did indeed see Cobb before, now.

"He comes in here every now and again and orders a beer with sauerkraut and pickled eggs," explained Tony, "Whew! After ten minutes I can smell him from one end of the bar to the other!"

"Is there anyone else here that might know him?" asked Jake.

"Why, yes, Kate Prittchard's her name. And you're in luck, because she just happens to be sitting here at the bar right now. Hey Kate, talk to this guy here, will ya?" he said to the woman in the blue shirt.

Jake walked up to her and started to question her. Showing her his badge, he introduced himself as a police officer, and she introduced herself as Kate Prittchard in return.

"Do you know anything about a man named Richard Cobb?" asked Jake.

"Oh, I know him, all right. We were very close once," she said. "Why are you asking about Dick, anyway?"

Jake explained, "I'm investigating a couple of murders that took place eleven years ago, and I believe Cobb may have a connection to them. The murder case was never solved. I'm trying to find something…anything…that can help me solve this case, and I thought maybe your friend, Cobb, could give us some answers."

Kate looked a little unconcerned. "Good luck, pal," she said, "If Richard's involved, you won't be able to do anything about it. He's too well connected."

Jake, who didn't appreciate that attitude, said, "Gimme a break, ma'am. Can't you think of anything that might help? Anybody your boyfriend knew at that time who might still be in the area?"

Kate thought about it for a moment. "Well, there _is_ a guy that Dick's been hanging around with, lately," she said.

"Give me a name, ma'am," said Jake impatiently, "I need to know who he is."

"I don't know his name, mister!" she replied, "All I know is that he's some filthy little jerk Dick hangs out with, and that Dick calls him 'Weasel.' That's the only name I know him by." She wrote down "Weasel" on a bar napkin and handed it to Jake. "Last a heard, he works down at the bowling alley."

Jake looked at the napkin, and said, "Thank you very much, Ms. Prittchard. You were a big help." And he meant it.

"Any time, officer," she said, "But who knows if that little slime is even still in town?"

"Don't worry, ma'am," said Jake, "We'll track him down somehow." With that having been said, Jake and Lyle were now heading to the Alley Cat, Jackson Beach's resident bowling alley.

* * *

At the Alley Cat, the citizens of Jackson Beach enjoyed playing bowling with each other, obviously. It was popular with groups of schoolchildren and their supervisors when they were out to enjoy a drug-free Saturday night, as well as for other clean activities with the kids of Jackson Beach. The high school kids loved the bowling alley. Evidently, however, there were some shady and dirty people playing there, too, and even working there, as well, and Jake and Lyle were getting ready to identify at least one of them.

Jake flashed his badge at the young man standing behind the front counter with a cigarette in his mouth, and said, "I'm investigating a murder case and I wanted to find out if you know anything about it."

"Sure thing, Officer Ryan," said the man, "What do you wanna know?"

Jake showed him the bar napkin. "Do you know anyone who calls himself 'The Weasel?'"

"'The Weasel?'" said the clerk, "Why, sure. That's Follet. He works here."

"Follet?" said Jake in astonishment, "You mean Forest Follet? He works here?"

"Yeah, he's in the back," said the clerk. "I'll go get him for ya." He walked over to the back door, opened it, and shouted to Follet that someone wanted to see him. Soon, Forest Follet himself came out to talk to them, quite reluctantly, evidently.

"Are you Forest Follet?" asked Jake, "Flashing his badge at him.

"Yeah, that's me," said Follet.

"I'd like to ask you a few questions."

"Go jump in a lake," said Follet rudely.

Jake smoothly showed Follet the APB for his arrest and informed him that they could either talk this out at the bowling alley or they could do it downtown at the police station.

"What do ya wanna know?" said Follet grudgingly.

"You've been implicated in the Strathmore Nation Guard Armory burglary," said Jake.

"Whoa! You ain't gonna pin that on me!" Follet exclaimed.

Jake looked at him mildly. "Then give me another name."

"I don't have another name," said Follet.

"Take him downtown, Lyle," Jake said to Lyle.

"No, wait!" shouted Follet, "Snake! That's all I know! Some guy named Nico the Snake!"

"Where can I find this Snake?" asked Jake.

"I met him once, and that's it," said Follet.

"No, that isn't it," said Jake, "Come on, I don't have all day."

"All right! He let me stay in his trailer once, down by the Bikini Hut! But that's definitely all I know at this point!" Follet sulked.

"Thanks, Mr. Follet. You were a big help," said Jake, "Lyle let's take him out to the car and book him."

"Got it, Jake," said Lyle, "As soon as we check out his story, I'll take him in."

"Hey! Wait a minute!" protested Follet.

"Can it, Follet," said Jake sternly, "When you run with the big dogs, you're gonna get bit. Get him out of here, Lyle."

Lyle gladly took away Forest Follet. Jake had a couple more questions for the clerk.

"Can you tell me anything more about Follet?" Jake asked.

"I just dropped him off at some trailer once," said the clerk, "That's all."

"Did Follet keep any of his personal belongings here?" Jake asked next.

"I don't know for certain," said the clerk. "I guess I can check the back and find out." He went into the back of the alley again.

When he came back, he was carrying one small thing. "Only thing back there is this key. It ain't mine."

"Thank you, mister," said Jake, "Is it all right if I take the key?"

"Sure. Like I said, it ain't mine."

Jake took the key and returned to Lyle's car to drive back to the Bikini Hut.

* * *

At their next destination, there was said trailer sitting next to the store. It looked dilapidated. Lyle offered to take Follet in while Jake checked out the trailer, and Jake agreed to this. Jake knocked on the door to the trailer, and when no one answered, he unlocked and opened the door.

Inside, the trailer was well furnished, but it left a lot to be desired in the cleanliness department. An unmade bunk sat by the wall next to the door. A small, battered couch sat against another wall with old newspapers on it, old news Jake had read before. There was a 12" RCA TV with a custom-built antenna. There were wooden crates stacked on top of each other, and they were filled with books. An eating table was against a third wall, along with a sink dripping with water, a crazily-hanging cupboard door, and mold and fungus in some of the dishes. Snake needed to take out his trash, apparently. And there was a small box on top of the cupboards.

He walked over to the cupboards and took a closer look at the box. It was named ANG and 9mm Luger on its sides. This Snake was also connected with the case of Jake's parents' deaths. He knew that the ammunition inside the box would be an important piece of evidence.

He also noticed a pair of boots on the floor next to the couch. Jake took a curious look at them. This was interesting. One of the boots, but not both, had an orthopedic lift built into the sole and heel…

_He flashed back on his mother's murder again at that moment. For some reason, he remembered that the murderer had walked with a slight limp, as if one of his legs or ankles hadn't perfectly healed from some past injury…_

Bringing himself out of his fantasy again, Jake took another look at the boots. One of the heels looked a little strange, like it hid a secret compartment. He successfully opened it and found that it was a secret compartment! Inside was a folded-up sheet of paper, which was initialed S.C. It was a list of dates for arms shipments from a Marble Head Island warehouse. Jake knew that he'd better take very good care of this piece of evidence. Finding nothing else to investigate there, Jake went back outside and shut and locked the door.

Lyle had returned by then. He asked if Jake had found anything.

"Sure thing, Lyle A schedule of arms shipments out of Marble Head Island with the initials S.C. and some of the 9mm ANG ammo," Jake said. "Why, look at this! The schedule even mentions Future Wave, and by its name!"

"You hit the jackpot, Jake," complimented Lyle, "That's the break we've needed. Let's go back to the office."

"I'm right behind you, Lyle," said Jake.

* * *

Outside of Jamison and Ryan, Lyle said to Jake, "I'll see what I can do tomorrow to get the ATF in on this case. You check out Marble Head Island… partner."

Jake broke out in a look of astonishment and respect. "Partner? You mean it?"

"Sure, why not?" said Lyle, "Your name's already on the stationary. You check out Marble Head Island, and get back to me when you've found something. You'd better go home and get some rest now. I'll see you tomorrow, Jake." He went back inside the office. Meanwhile, Jake did as he was told and went home to rest.

It amazed him how, after all these years of such a cold trail, his parents' murder case might be solved at last. As someone raised to believe in God, he didn't believe in vigilante justice or revenge, but it would sure feel good to see that the animal that butchered his mom and dad was finally defeated. Besides, he'd have another dangerous criminal off the streets, and that would do the common citizens of Jackson Beach a favor, too. Plus, since this Strathmore arms burglary case seemed to be connected to it somehow, he would save a lot of people from being unnecessarily killed by trigger-happy maniacs who wanted to cause mayhem with machine guns.

Jake Ryan let these happy thoughts carry him into a good night's sleep before he would go out on what might be the biggest day of his life.


	11. Warehouse Discovery

**Warehouse Discovery**

* * *

**The next day.**

At Carter's Marina, Jake knew he would need a rental boat in order to check out the Marble Head Island. But he also wanted to get his hands on the keys to the Future Wave, if possible, because he wanted to see if Bradford Green was hiding anything in his yacht that Jake might need. Jake knew that he would have to be discreet about this, and not leave any evidence of his having been there, due to not having a search warrant, so he prepared himself to be ready to cover his tracks in every situation.

On his way to the boat rental office, Jake picked up a fishing net someone had left on the dock. He still had the hook he had taken from the firebox, and he hoped it would prove useful, too. He went inside. Mr. Carter was still at his counter. Jake asked him about Bradford Green.

My goodness, Ryan," Carter said, "I haven't seen your smiling face around for quite a while."

"I developed a severe case of road rash when a speeding idiot proved he _could_ hit a rookie motorcycle cop," Jake explained. "Now, how about Mr. Green?"

"He's been a real gentleman so far," said Carter, "He runs his boat in and out a lot, but nothing really out of the ordinary."

"Has anybody been seen hanging around with him?" Jake asked.

"No one out of the ordinary," said Carter, "Except one, who was wearing a suit, which seemed a bit weird. Most of the jerks Green hangs out with are slobs like him."

"I see," said Jake with interest, "Would you be willing to look at a few mug shots? It might be a real break if we could identify this guy."

"Sorry, Ryan," said Carter, "I don't like to mess in other people's business. Not interested."

"Oh," said Jake, "Well, thanks anyway."

"No problem," said Carter.

"However, I would like to rent a boat," Jake continued.

"Sure thing, Ryan," said Carter, picking up a box full of boat keys on a rack. "Just pick the keys marked 'Rent.'"

Jake did so. He also saw the keys to the Future Wave, but he needed a distraction to get his hands on those.

"If you run into any treasures while you're out there, be sure and save some of them for me," said Carter.

"Yes, Mr. Carter," said Jake, "But it looks like you already have quite a coin collection."

"Yeah, I've been collecting them a long time," Carter replied, "It's a great hobby. You ought to try it."

Suddenly, Jake had an inspiration. He could find out how much that coin he took from his dad's safe was worth, and he stood a chance at getting the keys to the Future Wave. He showed Carter the coin, saying it was from his dad's coin collection.

"Let's have a look. I've got a pricing guide in the back," said Carter, and he took the coin into the back with him to check it out. While he was back there, Jake quietly snitched the keys to the Future Wave.

Carter came back and said, "That's a pretty nice specimen. It's worth about fifty dollars."

"Thanks, Mr. Carter," said Jake, "I appreciate it."

"No problem," Carter repeated.

"I gotta go now," said Jake, "See you later."

* * *

Before getting going on the rental boat, Jake knew it was time to check out the Future Wave. He walked over to it and entered it. He knocked on the back door, and when he got no response, he used the keys and unlocked it. Inside, he quietly and extensively searched the yacht. By the time the search was over, he found another key hidden in the dirt of a potted plant, and nothing else of note. He didn't feel altogether good doing this, because a cop without a warrant should never do something like this, but seeing as he was working with P.I. Lyle Jamison right now, and he was hot on the trail of some killers, he decided it was justified.

He left the Future Wave and walked to the small, yellow rental boat, turned it on, and sailed to the Marble Head Island, which was not too terribly far away from the land. At the shore where he parked his boat, he found a crate full of a carton of diesel fuel and a pile of rags. His instincts told him he might need them too, so he took them. There were also some pieces of wood nearby, and a pile of ashes, but there was nothing to do with them, so he started to walk up a path that led from the shore into the island.

The path led a pretty fair distance into the jungle that was the island's ecosystem. At the end of the path, he found the island's warehouse, with a locker door, a locked gate, and a vicious Rottweiler blocking the way. He had to think quickly before the dog alerted the people on the island. Taking out the fishing net, he threw it over the dog, trapping it. Then he opened the gate, and then the door, with the key from the Future Wave, and went inside the building.

The room he stepped into was filled with wooden crates, insulation material, long pieces of wood, and several machines, but he discovered this only after he inched his way to a light switch and turned on the lights. There didn't seem to be anything out of the ordinary in the room, but his ingenuity told him that if he experimented with the machines a little, there could be a hidden room or a secret passageway somewhere nearby. So he took a couple of cords from a loadlifter, and proceeded to pull a few switches and plug in the cords in certain ways to the machines. His persistence paid off in the end, because suddenly, one of the walls opened up, revealing another, hidden room.

He went in the room cautiously, and found more crates and boxes piled around the floor. He quietly opened one of them and found…automatic weapons!

"This must be the stuff from the Strathmore Armory heist!" he whispered to himself. He took one of the guns as evidence. "This should be enough to convince the ATF to help us on this case. Now all I have to do is cover my tracks and make it back to the dock before anyone sees me."

So he closed the box and returned to the other room. He played around with the machines in the reverse order that he had used before, and the secret room was closed again. He put the cords back exactly as they were, and shut off the lights. He went outside and locked the door. He closed and locked the gate. Remembering the Rottweiler, Jake used his fire hook to pull the fishing net off of it. Then he raced back down the path to the rental boat, and took off back to the Marina.

* * *

When he made it, he parked the boat and went back to the boat rental. He handed the rental boat keys back to Mr. Carter, using a little sleight-of-hand trick to cover his deed as he slipped the Future Wave's keys back on the rack as well.

"Thanks for letting me use the rental boar, Mr. Carter," he said. Then he left. He headed back to Jamison and Ryan to talk with Lyle about his discovery.

* * *

At the office, Jake asked Lyle how it went with the ATF.

"They're reluctant to step in without more proof," said Lyle.

Jake showed him the automatic rifle. "I've got all the proof the ATF will need right here," he said, "That weapon could only have come from the Strathmore Armory heist!"

Lyle took in the gun, and his eyes widened in pride. "Good work, Jake! The ATF office will be closed by now. I'll have to leave a message for Special Agent Forbes. We can't wait for the ATF. We'll have to settle this on our own. You go home and get some rest, Jake. Rent a boat at Carter's in the morning. I'll meet you there."

"Sure thing, Lyle," said Jake, "I'll see you in the morning." And with that, Jake returned home to Grandma Frannie, and went to bed for the night, but for a long time he couldn't sleep. He was too excited about solving this case and making it possible for his parents' souls at peace for good.

_There will be blood tomorrow!_


	12. Parents Avenged

**Parents Avenged**

* * *

**The next day.**

In the morning, Jake Ryan was raring to go. He drove down to the Marina as Lyle had instructed him to do, and went into the boat rental. Mr. Carter greeted him happily again, and Jake rented the same boat again with his one remaining rental pass. When he went outside to use the boat, Lyle was there, waiting for him.

"Any problem getting a boat, Jake?" Lyle asked him.

"Nope, no problem," said Jake, "Mr. Carter had one all ready for us. Have you heard anything from ATF?"

"I still haven't been contacted, but the assault rifle you brought back yesterday should be enough to convince them," said Lyle.

"Well, let's get going, then," said Jake, "We're burning daylight right now."

They both got into the rental boat and headed out to the Marble Head Island again. Along the way, in fact, inside an inlet of Marble Head Island, they found the Future Wave sitting alone in the water. Jake and Lyle had a feeling that Green was going to get himself involved in this, too. They pulled the rental boat alongside Future Wave and got onboard. Jake got a screwdriver from the rental boat just before they did that.

Jake knocked on the back door again. From inside, they heard Bradford Green's voice say, "If you bastards want me, yer gonna have to come in and get me!"

Jake looked at Lyle. "Sounds like Green's in there."

"He's got us locked out," said Lyle, "And I thought this might be easy."

Jake hollered into the boat, "Come on out, Green, you've got nowhere to run."

Green replied, "You can leave now and live, or I'll take you both down!"

Lyle looked expectantly at Jake. "It's your call, Jake. I'll follow your lead."

Jake had to find an ingenious way to get Green to come out of his cabin. Maybe if he smoked him out! But what could he use to do that? Then he noticed a locker on the outside wall of the cabin. He opened it with the screwdriver, and found some bourbon and a flare. The bourbon was useless to him, but the flare might do some good. He took it.

Next, he climbed the ladder next to the door, and stuffed the rags into the pipe at the top. Then he put the diesel can in the pipe, and finally, he lit a fire with the flare. "All we've got to do now is let it burn," said Jake to Lyle.

"Come on out, Green! It's over!" said Jake to Green. Smoke started to pour out of the cabin's vents. Green yelled, "I'm coming out! Don't shoot!" He opened the door and came out, but when he did, he was holding a live grenade, which he had just pulled the pin out of. His thumb was where the pin was, but he could release it at any moment.

"Give yourself up, Green," ordered Jake.

"You see this grenade?" asked Green threateningly, "Make a move and I'll blow us all sky high! I'll do it man, I'll do it!"

Jake didn't like the look of this at all. Neither did Lyle. But Jake and Lyle were not the type to give up in a situation like that. "Give it up, Green!" said Jake again. "You know you'll just be a big greasy spot on the deck if you don't!"

Green hesitated.

"Come on, Green, you don't want to die," said Jake, "Put the pin in the grenade and give yourself up."

Green scowled. "Goddamn kid cop! I should've killed you when I had the chance!" He disarmed the grenade, and Jake moved in quickly and cuffed him. Then Jake searched him, taking the grenade. "Grenades are dangerous things, Green. You should know better than to play with them," he said harshly.

"It ain't over yet, cop!' said Green defiantly.

"I think he's under control now, Jake," said Lyle.

"Yeah, I agree," said Jake, and he went back to the rental boat. He asked Lyle to bring down Green next. He would cuff him to one of the cleats on the stern. Lyle complied.

At the shore of Marble Head Island, on the same path that Jake had used before, Jake commented, "I think we're in luck, Lyle. It seems that nobody spotted the smoke from the yacht, even if they are outside on this island."

"Even so, we should proceed with caution," said Lyle. "These fresh tracks show that at least three or four people have been on this island recently, and they might be looking for us."

"Then I guess this is it," said Jake, "Either we come out of this with a gun-smuggling ring brought to justice, or we don't come out of this at all."

"I know, Jake," said Lyle. "I got your back all the way. We'll get through this alive, and if your mother and father's killer is here, we'll defeat him, too."

"Thanks, Lyle," said Jake gratefully.

They walked up the path together, but Lyle whispered to Jake that he was going to sneak ahead by a different way and try to help stop any gunmen that might fire at them from behind. At the top of a hill, Jake had to dive behind a tree, because a man with a gun was waiting there, and he fired his gun at Jake.

Jake drew his own gun and took cover. The guy looked like one of the gang hoodlums he arrested for possession of stolen property. It was hard to tell from this distance, but he thought it was Frank Sandoval.

Jake tried to shoot back, but from his position, he couldn't get a clear shot at Sandoval. The punk just kept firing away like he had all day. Jake attempted to improvise. He remembered the grenade he had taken from Green. He pulled the pin and threw it at Sandoval. The gunman didn't recognize the grenade until it landed right next to him. Then it blew up, taking Sandoval with it!

Sighing with relief, Jake walked forward slowly, his gun trained on Sandoval's body, just in case he was still alive and tried to take a quick potshot. When he made it there safely, he searched the body. It was a little messy doing so, but he found a dog whistle for his trouble. "It might come in handy if I need to get past that Rottweiler again," he thought.

Farther up the path, he found Lyle again, and a dead body that belonged to Tyrone Walker. "Are you all right?" asked Jake, "Were you shot?"

"No, I'm all right," said Lyle, "I had to stop this guy when I tried to outflank the other guy shooting at you."

"Thanks, partner," said Jake.

"Any time, partner," said Lyle, "Listen, I'm going to head for the warehouse. With all the noise we've made, the rest of them may try to get away."

"I'll go with you, Lyle," said Jake. They walked together until they reached the locked gate, and there was the watchdog again, growling and barking at them.

"See any signs of life?" asked Jake.

"Just this dog so far," said Lyle. "Why don't you figure out a way to make this doggie go away, and then we'll get past this gate and go inside?"

"Aren't you going to help me stop Wolfy here?" Jake asked him.

"Nah, I hate dogs," said Lyle, "Except for your little Labrador Waylon, of course."

Jake rolled his eyes. "Well, I think it's going to be easier than it looks," said Jake, "because, look what I found on Sandoval's body." He showed Lyle the dog whistle.

"Well, then," said Lyle, "Let's stop wasting time and blow it! I'm not going near that dog!"

Jake blew on the whistle, specially made only for dogs to hear, and the dog retreated into the kennel. Then it was easy unlocking the gate and the door again, and heading inside.

Inside, the lights were on, and the secret room was open. Jake closed the secret door before anybody could burst out and kill them. Then he walked right in front of that wall and said to Lyle, "We've got to get them out of there, Lyle. You open the door, and then cover me. I'll watch the door."

"Whatever you say, Jake," said Lyle, "Go for it!"

Jake stood in front of the door/wall and drew his gun, while Lyle went to the box that opened the door. Lyle opened the door, and then he drew his own gun and covered Jake, just as he was asked. When it was all the way open, a tall, thin man with long, dark hair, a dark mustache, a limp, and wearing a leather jacket, stepped out and pointed his gun at them. The memories came flooding back to Jake one more time…

_His mother was whisper/shouting to Jake to hide in the closet. He did, and he peeked out between the slats. The figure that entered the room walked to the bed and fired at his mother twice. Then, he glanced over at the closet and failed to see Jake, but Jake didn't fail to take in his menacing face and long, dark hair…_

The man standing before him was his parents' killer, Nico!

"Freeze, asshole!" said Jake, trying his best to hold back his rage, "Drop your gun and put your hands in the air."

"In your dreams, puke!" mocked Nico.

Jake's angry look didn't leave his face. "It's over, Nico. Put it down or you'll get dropped like a bad date."

"I'm not goin' down alone. There's bigger fish in this than me. Let's deal!" said Nico.

"No deals. Drop the gun, and then you can talk to the D.A.," said Jake.

"Damn that! He's in the other room!" said Nico, reluctantly dropping his gun.

Realizing his suspicions about corruption in the D.A.'s office were true, Jake yelled, "Come on out, Cox. It's over."

And out of the next room stepped none other than the District Attorney himself, Stuart Cox, S.C., the guy in the suit, though he was dressed in a short-sleeved dressy shirt and khaki pants right now. He had his hands up, too.

"Looks like you've fallen on some hard time, Nico," said Jake without humor. "You're going down for the murder of John and Jackie Ryan, as well as for this gun-smuggling business."

"You can't put any of that rap on me. You got no proof!" protested Nico.

"I saw you do it with my own eyes, Nico," said Jake, looking at him hard, "I saw you do it. I was their son."

Nico looked surprised, but swore under his breath for being caught red-handed.

Jake turned to the D.A. and said, "Stuart Cox, I suspected you were dirty when you threw out my arrest of Walker, Sandoval, and Green, but this…"

"Don't get overconfident, kid," Cox said, "You'll need some hard evidence to put me away."

Jake merely replied, "Do you have any idea what the other cons will do to you when they find out you were the D.A.?"

"It still isn't over, boy," said Cox, "I've still got plenty of options."

"I can't believe this shit, man!" said Nico.

Jake went over to the box and closed the secret door. Then he took down a hose, and tied the rope to Nico's and Cox's wrists. Searching them, he took away Nico's gun.

"You should be more careful how you handle yourself with guns, Nico," he said smoothly, "You could get hurt."

Just then, an ATF man finally arrived on the scene. "About time!" thought Jake.

"We made it, Jamison," he said, "Sorry we couldn't get here sooner, but we ran into some snipers on the other side of the island. These guys won't give you any more trouble."

Jake walked up to him and said, "I've got a little bonus in this for you, Special Agent Forbes," he said, "It seems the D.A.'s in this up to his neck. We've got a copy of his financial records and I'm sure you'll find his fingerprints all over the place."

"Good work, Ryan. You too, Jamison," Forbes congratulated the partners in law enforcement. And with that taken care of, Jake and Lyle left the building to return to their rental boat and to the mainland.

And as they went, Jake felt as though his parents somehow knew what he had done, and were saying that they were proud of him, not only for tracking down and arresting their killer, but for proving himself to be an elite cop in the line of duty at Jackson Beach. And so early in his career, too! Jake was certain that after the remaining criminals in this case were convicted, this would be cause for celebration!

* * *

The three suspects, Bradford Green, Nico Dillon, and Stuart Cox were taken before a federal court in July. All were convicted and sentenced to terms in the Federal Penitentiary.

The three of them were led to a row of prison cells on the upper floor of a prison cell block. Nico Dillon was prosecuted and found guilty of the following crimes: Two first degree murders, one first degree burglary, possession of stolen firearms, and carrying a concealed weapon.

CONVICTED! Death by lethal injection.

Bradford Green was prosecuted and found guilty of the following crimes: Four attempted murders, one child endangerment, two assault and battery counts, one conspiracy to commit burglary, one conspiracy to smuggle firearms, and possession of stolen firearms.

CONVICTED! Twenty years without possibility of parole.

Stuart Cox was prosecuted and found guilty of the following crimes: Conspiracy to commit burglary, possession of stolen firearms, and tampering with and failing to prosecute a criminal case.

CONVICTED! Fifteen years without possibility of parole.

Each of their cell doors was locked in their faces, and their criminal careers officially ended.


	13. Conclusion

**Conclusion**

* * *

It was indeed a time for celebration at the Ryan house. Jake had invited Laura and Skip over, with permission from Grandma Frannie, of course, and Lyle stayed over for a little while, as well. Frannie prepared a meal of roast duck for them, despite Jake's insistence that it would take too long, and that Gran shouldn't be doing all the work. She had said that she didn't mind work at all, because it helped keep her strong in her old age, and that the "kids" should enjoy their time together.

"That was another delicious dinner, Mrs. Ryan," said Laura, "You're the best cook I've ever known."

"Thank you, Laura," said Frannie modestly, "but I'm not the best. I just happen to have had a lot of practice. You see, Jake always used to complain my meals were not tasty enough when he was a boy."

Laura looked at Jake. He blushed and stuttered a little.

"Yeah," said Lyle, "Like I said, he was once a snot-nosed little brat. But look at what he is now! A real, veteran police officer in his own right in the city of Jackson Beach!"

"Speaking of police officers, Lyle," said Jake, "now that the case of my parents' murder has finally been solved, do you think you'll ever return to the police force and become a regular cop again?"

"I've thought about it, Jake," said Lyle, "But I think the job of being a P.I. has really grown on me, and I'd like to continue being one for the rest of my career. For me, personally, it feels much more fulfilling than ordinary police work. But don't think I'm saying you should be the same way. There'll always be a place for you at Jamison and Ryan if we ever need each other's help on a case again, but if you like being a standard policeman, I think you should stick to that."

"Well, thanks, Lyle," said Jake, "I really appreciate it. And I hope that you can enjoy it all the way to the very end."

"Me, too," said Lyle.

"Me, too," said Laura. "Lyle is really a very nice man, and I wouldn't want to see him not enjoy what he does for a living."

"But I'm afraid you'll all have to excuse me now," said Lyle as he got up from his seat. "I really loved being here, but it's been a long several days since Jake and I became partners, and I need to get my rest."

"Anything you say, Lyle," said Jake. "I'll see ya around."

"Goodbye, Lyle," said Laura. "Say goodbye, Skip."

"Bye, bye, Lyle!" said Skip.

"Goodbye Lyle," said Frannie, "It was good having you here tonight."

"Thanks, Frannie," he said just before leaving.

"Say, why don't you kids go outside and play on the beach again?" suggested Frannie. "I'll take care of the dishes here."

"Thanks a lot, Gran," said Jake.

"It would be a pleasure, Frannie," said Laura.

"Whoopie!" said Skip excitedly, "We're gonna play again!"

Outside, Jake released Waylon again, and they walked out onto the beach and gazed at the stars. The moon was waning, so it wasn't as visible as it was before, but it was still there.

Laura smiled at Jake as Skip and Waylon ran out to play by the water. "So, how hard is it going to be for Brad and those other jerks you caught?"

"Pretty hard," said Jake, "Nico will soon be executed, and Green and Cox won't be out for twenty and fifteen years, respectively. Of course, that doesn't bother me. They were criminals, and I'm a police officer, and it's the police force's job to uphold the law and protect the innocent citizens of this town."

"Plus, you wanted vengeance for your parents' murder," Laura reminded him.

"Yes," Jake admitted, "But I feel a little better about it, since I'm not the one executing Nico, like I was tempted to do when I faced him."

Laura didn't respond to that, but hugged him closely and kissed him. They held each other in their arms for a few minutes.

"Jake," said Laura, "You know, with Brad being a turncoat and in prison, Skip and I could use some help surviving in this city. Brad kind of supported us, you see, when we needed it, and now that he's gone, I don't have the support we so badly need."

Jake looked at her. "It's that bad?" he asked her.

"Well, not quite _that_ bad," she said, "But my present job isn't enough for us to make enough to live on. Skip needs his education, as well as his church. And, well," here she snuggled up close to him, "I could use some close comfort, some manly close comfort. Simple sexual practices I haven't enjoyed since my 'boyfriend' from high school thrilled me, and then abandoned me. I need a lover that I can _trust_, someone who will always stand up for himself and the woman he loves. And Skip needs something he's never had: a father. He needs a man to show him the masculine things in life."

Jake stared at her. His mouth opened wide. "Are you saying, Laura, that you want to marry me?"

"Only if you're willing to propose," said Laura, still smiling. "But I do love you. I meant it that night when we made love on the beach. Only I want to do it again within wedlock this time."

Jake stared into her shining eyes and smiled back. "I love you back, Laura." Then he dropped to his knees and asked, "Laura Dixon, I don't have a ring at the moment, but will you marry me?"

Laura laughed. "Of course I will, Jake Ryan, now that you ask. Oh, Skip is just going to love this news when he hears it!"

"I'm sure he will," said Jake. "But you know, even if we abstain from sex until after the wedding, I'd still like to be able to see you, if you know what I mean."

Laura looked at him mildly, clearly amused by his hidden meaning to what he said.

"My disability leave still isn't quite over," Jake said, "Why don't we go down to the Bikini Hut tomorrow? I've been there twice recently, already, but on both occasions, I was investigating crime. Why don't we go there, and we can get you the best-looking bikini in the store? You're too beautiful to go without one at the beach."

Laura laughed again. "You sure have a strange way of lighting up a woman's day, Jake Ryan. But sure, we can go. I'll come by in my family car, if you like. It'll be easier than your small motorcycle."

"Deal, Ms. Dixon," said Jake, kissing her.

"Call me Laura, Officer Ryan," she reminded him with a grin.

"Call me Jake," he reminded her.

And as they stood together under the starlight, arm-in-arm, watching Skip and Waylon play in the surf, they knew that whatever challenges lay in the future, they would all live happily ever after.

Except for when Jake was called to work to do his daily motorcycle shift, and serve the public trust like the law-abiding cop he was.

But of course, those were the times when Jake, his new wife, Laura, and their proud son, Skip, were at their happiest, anyway.

**THE END**


End file.
